Nothing, Yet Everything
by Nightsailer
Summary: A baby was born for the sake of lust. Vows were exchanged for the sake of duty. The kiss was shared for the sake of honor. Two people merged for the sake of emptiness. One woman cried for the sake of love. One proud Saiyan knelt for the sake of her.
1. Broken Promises

Continuation from Summary: As Vegeta struggles against the unruly pangs of his own heart, Bulma struggles to raise her child alone with none but her pillow to hold at night. But will solitude last forever?

Okay peeps. This one's not like all the others. I'm sick of stereotypes so sorry if this one's weird. R&R, hope you like it.

((AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a new collaborative profile called KDKB! Since both myself and another author worked together on this story, we decided to use a new penname so we both get credit. If you like Hellsing and the writing style of this story (improved by several years of practice), go check it out!))

"Alright, alright!" Bulma called over her shoulder when she heard the baby crying from the next room. Drying her hands on a dish towel and stacking the last of the plates into the cupboard, she pushed her pretty blue hair out of cerulean eyes and padded down the hall toward the baby's room. She opened the door and stepped quickly inside, hurrying across the toy-littered floor to scoop Trunks from his crib and hold him close.

"Yes, yes, I'm here, Trunks," she cooed, nuzzling the silky little nose. The baby gave a squeal in response, locking a chubby hand onto his mother's huge hoop earrings. "Ow! Trunks!" she yelped, by now used to the unusual strength the boy possessed at little more than four weeks of age. Tugging the little fingers apart, she freed her hoop and set her son back in his crib to remove the now aching golden bangle.

"You'll need to learn to control that grip of yours," she scolded gently, leaning down to once more lift him into her arms. The stunning blue eyes sparkled under lowered purple brows, and the baby gave a warning hiccup. Recognizing the danger signal, Bulma bounced the child on her hip and chirped indiscriminately into his ear, all the while praying that Trunks would remain quiet just a little longer.

"My, you look like your father," she said for what must have been the tenth time that day. She gave her son a playful poke in the side. Voicing the similarity eased the pain of her husband's absence, if only enough for her to shove the tears away for just a few minutes longer.

Vegeta had been gone almost a month. He had not waited to witness his baby's birth, and Bulma doubted if he even gave his son a single thought since conception. Always training, training, training…

Shaking her head angrily, Bulma steeled herself against the unpleasant thought and bounced the baby even more vigorously, making the child screech in delight.

"Careful, dear!" Mrs. Briefs, who had been watching from the doorway, rushed into the room and tore Trunks from his mother's grasp. The baby scowled, but the blond woman didn't seem to notice. "If you bounced him much harder, his cute little head would've popped right off!"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Mother," she said through gritted teeth, "I'm almost thirty two years old. I think I know how to take care of my own son." She reached for her baby, but her mother whisked him away.

"I doubt you even know how to hold him right. Let me show you again-"

"I know how to hold him!" Bulma screamed, startling them both into awkward silence. Trunks gave a wail, and Bulma took the opportunity to snatch him back, cuddling him close while shooting her mother a venomous stare.

Mrs. Briefs recovered almost immediately. "You know I was just trying to help, dear," she said coolly. "That's all I ever try to do, and yet no one ever seems to need me…" the older woman broke off into a strangled sob, casting a look at her daughter from under lowered lashes.

Bulma rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Mom, it's not like that," she grated, turning to put Trunks in one of his numerous playpens. This accomplished, she looked back to her mother and planted her hands on her hips. "I just want to do this on my own, okay? I'm a big girl, mom. I don't need you breathing down my neck all the time."

"I know, I know!" her mother sighed. "I just feel so useless…everyone else is out there fighting that Cell person and all I can do is make dinner and hope for the best! It's just so hard…"

"Don't I know it," Bulma muttered.

"What was that dear?"

"Nothing." Letting her arms fall to her sides, Bulma pursed her lips, lowering her eyes. "Look, mom. I'm sorry. I've been so stressed lately, what with taking care of Trunks, keeping up with that new training device, maintaining the gravity room, worrying about Goku and…and the others…" The girl sank into a padded rocking chair, letting her head fall into sweaty palms.

Mrs. Briefs caught the unspoken concern and flicked her daughter an understanding look. Laden with sympathy, she sat down beside Bulma, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's knee, not surprised to find it trembling with suppressed tears.

"He'll come back, dear," she said quietly. "I know he will."

"How do you know that?" Bulma demanded, tears finally exploding into torrential rivers that flooded down her cheeks and met with the ocean of her sea-green blouse. Trunks began to cry, but she didn't notice. "Dammit, I don't have a _clue_ what's going on down there, and it makes me sick! I should be down there watching them, giving them my support! I should be there, mom," she forced through gritted teeth. "I should be with them! Then I could make sure he would come back!"

"Honey, I don't think it would make a difference if you were there. Whether he survived or not wouldn't be affected-"

"Dammit, I know he'll _survive!_"Trunks wailed louder, but Bulma still paid him no heed. "Goku's with them, for God's sake! Whatever happens, we WILL win! I'm…I'm just worried…" her voice fell low, and she fixed her gaze on her palms, which were now wet with tears. "I'm worried he won't come back. I'm scared he won't come home."

Mrs. Briefs bit her lip. She had been turning the same situation over in her mind, afraid of the likelihood but convincing herself otherwise for her daughter's sake. Vegeta was always distant. He hadn't even allowed her and her husband to attend the wedding, permitting only the priest and a closed door for a witness. No pictures had been taken, no videos filmed, no cake cut. Not even a ring encircled her daughter's finger. It had seemed more a matter of business than anything else, considering the circumstances…

"See?" Bulma said quietly, kneading the tears from her puffy eyes. "Even you know it's true. Vegeta doesn't really love me. He used me for pleasure when the gravity room was cooling down, and being a prince he was honor-bound to comply with our customs and take the vows. He never even gave me a second glance after the wedding was over!"

Mrs. Briefs shrugged helplessly. Tugging Bulma into a comforting embrace, she stroked the silky hair with tender fingers. "I won't tell you anything I can't guarantee," she murmured, drawing her closer still. "But I can say that everything will work out for the best. You know you can always count on your father and me. And you have a beautiful baby boy who needs his mother right now. Don't ever forget that, alright?"

Bulma shook out of her mother's arms, not wanting to feel any more confined than she already was. Bending over the pen, she hefted the screaming Trunks and held him close.

Mrs. Briefs sighed again and got up. "I'll give you some time to yourself now," she said, turning to leave. "But if you feel like talking, I'll be in the living room. Your father is tinkering with something or another, and I'll bet he's forgotten to eat again." She started toward the door.

Before the door slid shut, Bulma cast a thankful look over her shoulder. "Thanks, mom," she called softly, forcing the lump from her throat with a determined cough.

Mrs. Briefs only smiled and shut the door with a quiet click.

Trunks grunted and grabbed a handful of her blouse. Bringing him up to eye level, Bulma sniffled and cracked a small smile.

"Do you think he'll be back, Trunks?" she asked quietly. The baby promptly threw up all over her, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Well, I don't know what to make of that, but I guess I'll find out." Wiping the dribble from her son's now smiling mouth, she strode down the hall to find a change of clothes and an aspirin.

She had barely opened the bathroom cabinet when she heard someone burst through the front door. Dropping the bottle into the sink, she tugged Trunks close and dashed down the hall, taking the steps three by three to come skidding to a halt at the bottom.

"Krillin?" she gasped. The diminutive fighter looked up, his eyes brightening at the sight of the genius girl. Over his shoulder was slung a body - whose, she could not be sure, for it was covered in a soot slathered blanket. The sight made her heart lurch painfully; she swallowed hard.

"Bulma!" he cried, staggering toward her. "You'll never believe this! We won! We really won!"

Taken aback, the blue-headed girl reeled. "W…won?" she stammered. "But…who's that?"

_Please, God, not Vegeta…_

"Oh, yeah." His face darkened, becoming serious at once. "Well, this may be kind of hard to believe or accept, but…"

_Oh God, no…_

"Well, uh, y'see…" a faint flush stained his wan cheeks, giving him the look of an overcooked turkey. "Cell kinda…ingested Android 18 and then…spit her back out. I was wondering if there was anything you could do to help…?"

Such relief flooded her system that she didn't even stop to think of what this could mean. "Yeah, of course I can help!" she said brightly, trying to staunch the tears that now sprung from relief rather than sorrow. "Here, just take Trunks and I'll bring her into my lab…" Thrusting the baby into his arms, she hefted the heavy android onto her shoulder and toted her across the room with a strength borne of reprieve. Wild hope shone in her blue eyes, carrying her to the big iron door at the end of the hall and into the lab, Krillin tagging close behind.

"I'm so glad you're gonna help," he gushed, not noticing that Trunks had latched onto his arm and was now attempting to teethe on his earlobe. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to do anything after what she had done…"

"Well, all of us have made mistakes, and I trust you," she replied, not really listening. She had already laid the unconscious machine on a long wooden table and was preparing to hook her up to the computer. Her thoughts were all on the battlefield with the prince who had stolen her heart. Idly plugging in the right wires and pressing a few buttons, she tottered off toward the capsule storage case.

"H-hey, where are you going?" Krillin asked, surprised at Bulma's unusual lack of attention. Shooting 18 an uneasy look, he followed after the young scientist, who was now sorting through her various capsules in search of one of her vehicles.

"Oh, I'll be right back," she said mindlessly, a dreamy look on her face. "I'm just gonna go see everyone on the battlefield…"

"B…but what about 18?" he pleaded, casting yet another anxious glance over his shoulder. "Aren't you gonna fix her first?"

"She's a machine, she'll be fine!" Bulma snapped, already heading for the exit. "And anyway, I have to recharge her internal battery before I can do anything else. If it makes you feel any better, I'll be back within the hour." Grabbing Trunks almost as an afterthought, she nodded curtly to Krillin and headed out the door, leaving the little man to scratch his bald head and wonder what he was supposed to do with himself.

"We're going to see Daddy, Trunks," she whispered, pushing the button of the capsule to release her helicopter. Strapping the boy into his carseat, she hurried around to the driver's seat and strapped herself in, barely remembering to open the garage door before taking off into the sky, her hopes flying high on wings of unfounded faith in what wasn't there.

Gohan sat alone on a huge boulder overlooking the destroyed battle ring. Unshed tears stung the backs of his eyes as he replayed the battle with Cell over and over in his mind, wondering if he would ever again see the father that had won him his life at the price of his own. His muscled arms hung limply at his sides as he stared aimlessly at the broken tiles, lost in thoughts of the past and avoiding notions of the future.

The rest of the fighters sat in silence, not knowing what to say to break the spell of grief Gohan had cast upon them all. They knew that Goku would be back in time; they would never see the last of the fearsome warrior. But to explain this to his son…that was a different story. And so they said nothing, each casting aggrieved glances at the boy who had saved them all.

Except for one.

Vegeta stood off to the side, his burly arms crossed, nose pushed into the air at the insanity of it all. Kakarott's son, of all people! How could he be the one deigned to reach Super Saiyan 2? Him, a child, ascend beyond the Saiyan Prince? And the fool, Kakarott himself, had left without their final fight!

"I will get you, Kakarott," he hissed into the wind, "even if it means I will have to kill myself to get to you! I will defeat you, lowlife Saiyan scum!"

The midmorning breeze brought the undertone to the sensitive ears of Piccolo, who cast the Saiyan Prince a look of avid disgust. He was about to reiterate when the sound of a chopper broke the uneasy silence with its whirring blare.

"Bulma…?" he wondered aloud. All eyes were upon the approaching helicopter as it settled onto the plains with a rushing sigh. The blue-haired beauty leapt out of the seat, flashing sapphire eyes surveying the scene with practiced precision.

"About time!" she shouted, crossing her arms. Though her tone was stern, her face was alight with joy. "I thought you guys would never be done!" Laughing wildly, she ran and threw herself into her future son's arms.

"We did do it, mother," the young man said softly, "but at a terrible price."

The smile disappeared as she pulled back to stare him in the face. "Wh…what do you mean?"

Trunks looked away, unable to supply the requested information. Bulma looked around, only to meet with the same answer from each of the averted gazes.

"Well?" she demanded, suddenly afraid. "What is it? What-"

"Kakarott is dead." Vegeta stepped up from behind, his deep black eyes flashing in the morning sun. "He died fighting Cell."

The girl forced a laugh. "We…we can always wish him back on the DragonBalls, can't we?" she ventured hesitantly.

Vegeta snorted and looked away. Yamcha cleared his throat uneasily.

"Not exactly," he muttered. "Goku asked not to be wished back to life. Believe me, we tried; but he just said no. And well…it's not going well with Gohan." He nodded toward the boulder.

"Oh…oh my…" Bulma followed his gaze and winced when she saw the boy sitting alone, unblinking, silhouetted by the rising sun.

"Yes, yes, boo hoo." Vegeta started toward Gohan, features twisted into a horrible sneer. "We all suffer losses. For him to carry on like this is unacceptable. He is of Saiyan blood, no matter if his father was a bumbling idiot." Gohan looked up, black eyes ablaze with fury. The boy got to his feet, but did not advance.

Vegeta snickered. "Look at him. Pathetic. I lost my entire planet without shedding a tear." Raising his voice, he called, "Come on, you little brat! Get over yourself and go home! There is nothing to be gained by sniveling like a bloody baby. If you truly want to be worthy of the title of 'Saiyan', then you had better start-"

_Smack_.

"You…little…jerk," Bulma raged through gritted teeth. Vegeta's eyes were wide, his head still turned to the side from where she had struck. Pulling her hand back, she smacked him again. "You slimy little jerk! How dare you talk to Gohan like that after his father died? You're no prince! You're nothing more than a scoundrel! A lowlife-" _smack_ - "bloody-" _smack_ - "scoundrel!"

_Smack._

Everyone stood in shock. Piccolo's normally stoic face was twisted into one of utter disbelief. The others were similarly slack-jawed at the show of fury towards the Saiyan Prince. Vegeta regarded Bulma incredulously, looking as if he would strike her back at any moment. Yamcha tensed, ready to spring into action should Vegeta actually decide to hit the girl he himself had loved for so long, but the Prince just snorted and backed away, turning his back upon them all. Bulma heard the baby crying from the helicopter and awkwardly went to tend to him, fully aware that every eye was fixed upon her back.

"Whoa," said Tien, unable to tear his gaze away. "That was amazing!"

"Tell me about it," Yamcha replied, equally awed. "I've never seen Vegeta cowed like that! Man, that felt good!"

"No, Vegeta was right." Gohan walked up behind them, eyes dry and mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile. "I can't just sit there like a baby. Dad wouldn't have wanted that. It was all just…so sudden. One minute he was there and the next…" The half-Saiyan shook his head violently. "Well, in any case, I'm better now." He looked up at Piccolo with shining eyes. "We did it. Now I want to go home."

The future Trunks departed a half an hour later, exchanging a two-fingered wave with his father and a nod with everyone else. Bulma had watched him go, a smile upon her pretty face as she hoisted her own Trunks in her arms and had him wave goodbye. With a final wink, the boy from the future blinked out of sight.

The gathering of the Z warriors slowly dispersed. Gohan and Piccolo headed back to the boy's house, followed by Tien and Chiaotzu. Yamcha and Puar muttered their own goodbyes and headed off, leaving Bulma alone with Vegeta.

An awkward silence filled the space between the two. Bulma busied herself with fussing over Trunks' baby cap, and Vegeta worked out a kink in his shoulder muscle with various stretches. Neither looked at the other.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Bulma strapped Trunks into his seat and started toward her husband.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded.

"I will do whatever I please, woman," he snarled, lunging into a toe-touch.

"No, you will not!" she roared, stomping another few steps forward. "Not while you're my husband!" She laid heavy emphasis on those last few words, hoping to spark some sort of reaction from the stoic Saiyan Prince.

"So what?" he returned, casting her a disgusted look. "You act as if that should mean something to me."

Bulma's mouth flapped open and closed a few times before snapping shut in indignation. "It should!" she screeched, a vein pulsing in her temple. "Vegeta, we have a son!"

The warrior shrugged. "That means nothing."

"Nothing? _Nothing_?" Reaching the end of her limit, she grasped him by the brawny shoulder and attempted to spin him around, succeeding in nothing but throwing herself into his face with the force of her pull. He sneered down at her, vicious canines gleaming in the mounting light.

"Yes, woman. Nothing. The vow will retain me until the whelp comes of age; then I will leave without looking back." Turning from her, he started to leave, preparing to launch himself into the air and leave her behind.

Not knowing what else to do to retain him, Bulma threw her arms around his waist and pulled herself close.

"Do I really mean nothing to you?" she asked softly, trying not to notice his alluring scent of sweat and blood.

Vegeta paused in midstep, unaccustomed to the show of affection. He flicked his coal eyes across her rigid figure, lips curling in a sneer when he noticed her trembling lip. "Nothing," he replied again. "Now let go."

"No."

"Dammit, I said let go!" Warm power enveloped them as his black hair became gold, and flashing green eyes bored into the sapphires as he glared at her in rage. "Let go," he hissed, "or I will take off and let you fall."

"No, you won't," she said forcefully, willing herself to believe it as much as she believed he would shoot off into the air. "You won't let me fall, Vegeta. I'm your wife."

"Watch me!" he roared. Kicking off the ground, he shot into the air, hands balled into fists at his sides.

Bulma watched the ground fall away with a wave of sickening dread. Clinging tighter to his neck, she threw her legs around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder, biting her tongue against a cry that wouldn't come anyway. She felt cool mist on her face as the clouds rushed past, calling to her to wait for them to catch up. She would have liked nothing better than to oblige.

Suddenly the ascent stopped. A light breeze tickled her neck and swayed her long blue hair. Still Vegeta's arms rested at his sides, but now he regarded her with curiosity rather than anger.

"You know I can peel you off me right now," he said softly, brow furrowing. "You would fall at a speed nearing that of sound and hit the rocky cliffs below."

Bulma forced herself to look into his burning black eyes. "I know," she replied, setting her mouth into a grim line.

"I would have no regrets."

She swallowed hard, but remained staring him in the face. Something in his tone had sounded almost…awed. It took the edge off his words and allowed her to answer without a quiver in her voice. "I know," she said again. "But neither would I."  
Vegeta's eyes widened. "And why would that be?" he demanded. "You'd be falling to your death!"

_Why would that matter_? She wondered. _You act as if I _should _have regrets._ Aloud, she said, "At least I would know, if only for a split second, what was like to be a Saiyan."

The widened eyes narrowed dangerously, and he moved as if to loosen her grip. "You could never know what it was like to be like me. Saiyans never fall. To say such a thing is unacceptable!" Removing one hand, he held it fast and went to work on the other.

She watched him in horrified fascination, clinging to his hand with all her might. "But I would know what it was like to go soaring through the clouds," she whispered, feeling him start to slide from her legs' death grip on his hips. Grimacing, she added, "And I would know what it was like to be betrayed."

Vegeta stopped trying to free himself, his eyes glittering in outrage. "How dare you!" he howled, pressing his face into hers. "What do you know of betrayal? Hell, woman, I'd be doing you a favor by letting you die! Then you wouldn't be around to pester me!" But his eyes told a different story as they bored into hers - one of sadness, futility, and treachery. For a moment in time, the wall of pride was dropped, revealing the man inside the monster. He looked like a child…frightened, cowed, and fumbling for his way all in that one simple glance. Bulma burned that image into her mind and determined at that moment to find him again. Without even thinking about it, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his.

The Prince went rigid, as he had at their tiny wedding. His already incredible body heat increased twofold, and his death grip on her hands loosened ever so slightly. He seemed to almost hungrily lean into the kiss, as if he were a man dying of thirst with a bottle of water. The green eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to pull away, but found he could not. He could only float, immobile, beneath her grip of feather-soft steel.

When she finally let her lips fall away, his eyes flashed open; he pushed her to arms' length and regarded her with a furious stare.

"What did you just do to me?" he demanded. "What kind of strange power did you have that you kept secret, woman? How could a puny human hold the Saiyan Prince at bay with a touch?" Bulma looked at him questioningly, not knowing what to say. When she didn't answer, Vegeta issued a violent shake. "Tell me or I'll rip your head from your shoulders!"

"You don't scare me, Vegeta," she murmured. Bringing up a slender hand, she rested it upon his cheek. "And that was called a kiss. We did it at our wedding, remember?" she asked, suppressing the lump that seemed to be becoming quite a nuisance as of late.

"It was a ritual," he replied coldly, "nothing more. It didn't hold me then! Why does it now?"

"Maybe you've discovered you actually have feelings after all!" Bulma snapped, angry he would disregard such an important occasion, but somehow not surprised.

"Hardly," he snorted. "A Saiyan has no need for emotions. All they do is hinder the inevitable decisions that must be made. Come on, woman. I don't have time to put you down, so I'll take you with me. Remain perfectly still and I may decide not to drop you!" he snarled. A golden aura enveloped the couple, and Vegeta's coiled muscles tensed to take off at sonic speed.

"Wait!" Bulma cried, pounding on his chest. "The baby!" She twisted her head to desperately look over her shoulder. "We have to get Trunks!"

"I said remain still!" Vegeta snapped, grabbing her wrist and twisting it painfully behind her back. "The child is of no importance to me. If you want to get him, though, be my guest!" Letting go, he suddenly disappeared from her grasp, reappearing a few feet away to watch her fall.

Time seemed to stand still as she absorbed his twisted smirk with glazed eyes. For a split second, she hovered where she was. Then she plummeted to earth, watching his golden silhouette as it fell toward the heavens in a blinding blaze of power.

"So this is what it's like," she whispered into the rushing wind, "to fly by yourself." Strangely she was unafraid as she watched the planet leap up to hit her. She watched the clouds swirl by in fascination, numbed more by that stinging sneer than the cold atmosphere that swirled around her. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine the destruction of Vejitaseii. Did the Saiyans look on in terrified awe as the titanic wave of energy hurtled toward them? She could almost see the proud race with their heads held high, watching their doom approach on wings of betrayal.

"This is what it's like to fall victim to the one who promised you everything and nothing."

Opening her eyes once more, she saw the Earth reaching out to strike her. Chuckling grimly to herself, she held up her hand on a whim.

"A toast," she murmured, "to the Saiyans." She squeezed her eyes shut and prepared to meet the cliffs of Earth.

But she didn't hit.

A pair or strong, muscular arms wrapped themselves around her slender waist and hoisted her into the hair. The scent of sweat and blood once more flooded her mind as she was cradled almost gently to a armor-covered chest. She opened one eye and found herself staring into those of the Saiyan prince.

"You know nothing of broken promises," he murmured, setting her lightly beside her helicopter. Without another word, he turned on his heel and rocketed into the sunrise so her eyes could follow him no longer.

Pushing her hair behind her ear, she tried to peer through the light, but ended up having to look away. Sighing heavily, she turned back to the helicopter to find the baby out of his carseat and crawling toward the rising sun, his chubby little hand outstretched and mouth open in a wheedling cry.

"Oh, Trunks…" Bulma glided over to pick up her son and hold him close. "I know, I know." Sighing, she went to strap him back into his seat. But when she began to fiddle with the straps, she found that they had been ripped apart. Eyebrows raised, she looked back at her baby.

"Guess I'll be holding you on my lap," she whistled, climbing into the driver's seat. "And you'd better be good, or Mommy'll crash and then we'll both be in trouble." Trunks simply blinked and looked back out the window, his stunning blue eyes fixed pointedly on the sunrise.


	2. Nostalgia

(A/N: K, peeps, there are a few things I need to clear up, apparently. I know this isn't exactly like the series, and the Cell Saga probably ended completely differently than in my story. (I haven't watched it since it went off Toonami and into the Buu Saga, which was a few years ago.) HOWEVER! I have creative license, don't I? -. There will be some V/B stuff in later chapters, but it's not gonna be like the usual lovey dovey mumbo jumbo shit that I'm getting so sick of. It'll be a myriad twist of angst, futility, and spur-of-the-moment emotions mixed in with all kinds of other crap that will happen in between. There will be something happening with Yamcha, and another thing happening with a mysterious character who needs something built by Capsule Corporation. So if you're looking for fluffy happy dribble, sorry, you're gonna hafta go somewhere else. Oh, and if that sounded a little mean, I'm sorry, I'm just trying to capture the right audience so no one will be disappointed. Hope you enjoy Nothing, Yet Everything with the right sense of the proud humility I'm trying to put into Vegeta's character.)

(R&R if you like it. An author wants nothing more than praise for his or her work, even over money. Think of it as getting a book for free - the least you can do is tell the nice person what you think. Thanks for taking that into consideration. So far you guys have been great. Thanks so much for giving me so much support; I really appreciate it and hope I can continue to give you what you want.)

"I'm home," Bulma called, kicking off her shoes at the door. Trunks babbled aimlessly in her ear, blowing a snot bubble and popping it in her hair. Used to such occurrences by this time, she simply pulled a napkin out of her pocket and swiped it expertly across the sodden strands.

"There you are!" Krillin came tearing down the hall, barely keeping himself from bowling the genius over in breathless excitement. "The computer says her battery's charged and 18's ready for repair! Please come quick! I'll take the baby," he offered, reaching for the infant in her arms.

"Alright, Krillin." She set the baby gently in her friend's arms. "I'll go have a look." Starting off down the hall, she pulled out her key to the lab and tied her long blue hair back in a ponytail. Then, almost as an afterthought, she glanced back over her shoulder at the overjoyed fighter.

"Say," she ventured, trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably, "did Vegeta come back through here? I was hoping to do some laundry and I was gonna chuck that smelly old workout suit of his into the washer…"

Krillin scratched his head in perplexity. "No, I don't think so. Then again, I was in the lab the whole time…" he trailed off, the faint flush on his cheeks deepening to a sort of crimson.

Bulma sighed and rolled her eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. "What, are you in love with the thing or something?"

"She's not a 'thing', she's, well, a she!" he said defensively. "And… Uh…well, y'see…"

She shot him an incredulous look. "You've GOT to be kidding me. Krillin, I can understand if you wanted her fixed in the name of science, but this--!"

"Since when have I ever done something 'in the name of science'?" Krillin yelped, crossing his arms. "That's your forte, not mine. And so what if I do love her? Machines can have personalities, too!"

"And Saiyans can love," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just forget it." Whirling on her heel, she marched off toward the lab, leaving Krillin behind to wonder what he was going to do with the drooling baby. Trunks desperately needed a diaper change from the smell of it; the bald fighter wrinkled his nose at the thought.

"At least, if I marry 18, we won't have this problem," he muttered, going off in search of a new diaper.

He had just entered the baby's room to when heavy footfalls sounded behind him. A gloved hand fell upon his shoulder, whirling him around roughly to come face to face with its owner - Vegeta.

"Where's the broad?" he demanded, onyx eyes flashing when they fell upon Trunks. The baby screeched in glee and held up his chubby hands. Vegeta snorted and looked back to Krillin.

"She's in the lab, Vegeta," Krillin replied, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. To this day, Vegeta still scared the living daylights out of him. "Why do you want to know?"

"She is to wash and mend my suit, though why that is any of your business is beyond me," he snarled. "God, that woman does nothing but play with the brat all day long! She never gets anything important done."

"Uh…well, she does do a lot…" Krillin began hesitantly, knowing full well that Bulma raised the baby by herself while juggling a workshop and the household all at the same time, but not wanting to say anything that land him in a world of hurt.

Before Vegeta could reply, Mrs. Briefs bounced into the room in a flurry of golden curls. "Goodness!" she exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her nose. "That baby does stink! We're just gonna have to fix that, aren't we, my little Trunksie Poo?" Gently taking her grandson from Krillin, she set him on the changing table and began to rummage through a drawer.

"Poo is right," Krillin snickered, holding his nose with a newly freed hand.

"What a ridiculous name," Vegeta sneered. "Hey!" he called to the still searching woman. "If you are going to address the brat, use the right damn name!"

"Oh Vegeta dear, would you hand me that powder?" she asked, either not hearing his demand or choosing to ignore it. "It's right over there on the counter behind you."

The Saiyan Prince's face turned almost purple. "Did you hear me?" he hissed.

"Oh, alright, I'll get it. You can start changing his diaper!" Pushing the startled Vegeta to the changing table, she quickly undid the plastic straps and let Trunks' diaper fall open, revealing itself in all its putrid glory.

Vegeta reeled, sensitive Saiyan senses taking a blow that neared a punch. He gripped the edge of the table, nearly cracking it in half with his powerful hands.

"Oh, go on now, it won't bite you," Mrs. Briefs called from the counter, where she had discovered the bottle empty and was now searching the cupboards for more.

"How can you ask the Prince of all Saiyans to change a diaper!" Vegeta howled, moving as if to either throw a punch or run away. "Of all the indignities--!"

"Do it for Bulma, dear! She needs all the help she can get right about now!" The woman started to the door. "I'm going to run to the store for a little while; we're out of powder and just about everything else. Until I get back, just use the powdered wipes and put him in a cloth diaper. It was so nice to see you again, dear. I do love having visitors! The gravity room is newly repaired, but it still has a few glitches, so don't go using it right away. Well, ciao!" With a last wink, she disappeared into the hall.

"Why would I do it for Bulma?" he muttered, wrinkling his nose. However, despite his statement, he fumbled around for the handle of the nearest drawer and tugged it open, staring in perplexity at the various baby items laid neatly inside.

"Having problems?" Krillin snickered, unable to repress the biting comment.

Vegeta shot a scathing look over his shoulder. "If you're so smart, baldy," he growled, "then you do it!"

"Nope, sorry dude. I've got something else I gotta do. Later!" Amazed at his own audacity, Krillin took off after Mrs. Briefs as fast as his little legs would carry him.

Vegeta was about to give chase when he felt gentle hands rest themselves over his and guide them to the right drawer. A familiar warmth was pressed against his back - one that smelled of powder and rose petals…

"I would never have believed it," Bulma murmured. "You, of all people, changing a diaper!"

"I was forced to do it," he grumped, stepping out of her hold and retreating to the window. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn his cheeks had gone a pale pink. "Don't think I'll be doing you any favors. It's your brat; you take care of him."

"Our brat," she corrected, folding her arms.

"I didn't want it," he returned, "you did. You could have gotten rid of it at any time - sent it to one of the incubators to develop. You could have been done with it then and there."

"In…incubators!" Bulma cried, disgusted. "We do no such thing on Earth!"

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. "No incubators? Then how the hell are there so many brats running around?"

"People do it the natural way here," she retorted, frowning.

"That's idiotic." Crossing his arms across his chest, he leaned against the windowsill. However, his tone wasn't entirely angry; his words were more confused than anything else.

Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Bulma turned and finished changing her son's filthy diaper. The silence almost seemed to come alive, it was so complete. Vegeta watched a hawk circling a mouse outside the window, a wicked smile curving his lips when the hunter tore its sharp beak into its prey. At last, Bulma could stand it no longer - she couldn't continue to act like nothing was wrong.

"Why did you drop me?" she demanded, handing Trunks a rattle and turning her gaze to her husband.

"Because you didn't do what I said," he replied, as if that explained everything.

"You could have killed me!"

"That's the price for insubordination," Vegeta shot back, eyes boring into hers like lasers. "If you continue to be disobedient, sooner or later you'll find yourself in a situation you can't get out of - and it will be all your fault."

"You don't care about anything, do you?" she asked, a hurt expression creeping across her face.

"No. But even if I did, I would never show it. I've told you before, so listen this time! Saiyans do not even have a word for 'emotion' in our native tongue. We are not supposed to feel love. We must not feel compassion. Such traits are considered weaknesses, and those harboring such treacherous thoughts are immediately executed." Vegeta sneered into the sunlight. "We are a warrior race. We do not have room for such things."

"But what about your parents?" she persisted, taking a step closer. "Didn't they love each other? I mean, they had to be married. They were King and Queen!"

"My parents mutually respected the other's abilities and agreed to an alliance as a sort of treaty. Marriage, translated into the Saiyan tongue, or as close as I can figure, is known as _sairiea_. _Sairiea_, when translated into Earthian, means mutual necessity. The partnership lasts only as the participating Saiyans deem it necessary." Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the windowpane.

Bulma rested her gaze upon him, profound pity flashing across her cerulean irises. Checking once more to make sure Trunks was happy, she padded across the room and slipped her arms around his back, resting her head against his muscular lats.

"Vegeta," she said huskily, "I love you." Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed the back of his neck. "Do you ever think that it may be time to let those traditions go?"

The Saiyan Prince whirled around, throwing Bulma against the wall with the force of his spin. "I will never let Vejitaseii die," he hissed, pressing his face into hers. "My father, my mother - all the Saiyan warriors! - will live on in me. I will see that the legacy is continued until I draw my last breath." Storming past her, he headed to the door. When he passed the changing table, he stopped, if only for a moment, and looked down at his little son. The baby looked up at him with startled blue eyes, his tiny lips parting as a cry gurgled in his throat.

"Oh, shut up," Vegeta snarled, slamming the door behind him.

"Vegeta!" Bulma yelled after him, starting for the door as well. Trunks was wailing at the top of his powerful little lungs, kicking and punching the air as if it had personally done him wrong. Bulma tried to pick him up, but the force of his miniscule thrashings kept her back, gaping at her son in bewilderment. He had never kicked so hard.

The floor hummed softly as the gravity chamber whirred to life despite Mama's warning, making the lights flicker slightly as an enormous amount of electricity was channeled into the tiny training chamber. The girl sighed and rubbed her temple. Another insane electric bill was on its way.

"Guess I'd better go check up on 18 before Krillin has a heart attack," she muttered to herself. Turning to Trunks, she placed her hands on her hips and put on her most menacing glare.

"Okay, mister, if you don't stop that I'm gonna have to leave you here, and I'm sure you don't want that." The boy kept thrashing for a few minutes longer, then stopped and looked at her with wide eyes. With a small gurgle, he held up his arms. She scooped him up and tucked him under her arm, looking for the closest person to dump him on so she could head for the lab.

"Bulma!" came a voice from behind. Blue hair swished as she turned to see Yamcha running down the hall toward her waving his arms. She rolled her eyes and prayed for strength as he skidded to a halt in front of her.

"Hey…I was…wondering…if I could…stay…here a little while," he panted wildly, throwing furtive glances over his shoulder. "It….would help…immensely…"

Bulma threw a look over his shoulder, wondering what sort of mess he had gotten himself into this time. Blowing out a small sigh, she nodded.

"Yeah, but only if you're willing to babysit," she said, thrusting Trunks into his arms. "I'm gonna be awfully busy these next few weeks, so I'll need the help. But one question," she added, cutting off his gushing stream of gratitude. "What's going on? Are you gonna be bringing the police in after you? 'Cause if so, you're outta luck."

The scarred fighter put on a sheepish grin and rubbed the base of his neck. "Well, y'see, I kinda lost this bet…"

"Oh, no!" Bulma interrupted, holding out a hand. "You're not paying out of _my_ pocket. Again," she added icily.

'No, no! It's not that!" he wailed, making Trunks look up at him in dismay. "It's…" he lowered his voice - "a girl."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "And this is news to me…how?"

"That's not the point! I bet this girl that if she could outdrink me until I fell under the table, I would date her for a month. Stupid, I know," he said hastily, watching her swell up like a balloon, "but let me finish. We went to the bar and she had 46 - 46! - mugs of beer! I was done at 32, but she just kept going. So now I have to date her, and I really don't want to! Please, Bulma, you have to help me!"

"Help you how? She can't possibly be _that_ bad-looking."

"No, it's not that. She's extremely pretty. But she's always head-over-heels, head-in-the-sink drunk!" He shuddered. "I couldn't take that on a 24 hour basis. It would just be too much! Please, it'll just be a month--"

"What do I have to do!" she finally exploded, frustrated with his hedging on top of everything else she had to deal with.

His face turned red. "Well, you're not gonna like it…"

"OUT WITH IT!"

"Pretendtobemywife," he gushed, looking at his feet.

Bulma stared. "Say…what?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

Yamcha threw up one hand, tucking Trunks under the other arm. "I knew it was stupid to ask. I shouldn't have come." He none-too-gently shoved the baby back into her arms, and turning on his heel, started back toward the door.

As she watched him go, her mind set to work in sonic speed. What did she have to lose? It wasn't as if Vegeta paid any attention to her anyway. Trunks would grow up just like his counterpart from the future - fatherless and sad. It might do the baby good to have a male role model in his life.

_And imagine what it would be like to feel like you were loved…_

Sighing, she trotted after him and laid a hand on his arm. "You need a cover," she muttered, "and I need a babysitter. Here are the rules; no coming into my room, no going anywhere NEAR Vegeta, and no sex. Got it?"

His black eyes lit up. "Got it!" he yipped, grabbing Trunks back and bouncing him in joy. "Thanks SO much, Bulma. This really means a lot to me."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Now get out of here; Trunks needs a bath. You'll find his tub under the kitchen sink." Turning to go, she took a few steps down the hall.

"Hey Bulma," Yamcha called after her, glancing over his shoulder.

Her shoulders sagged as she rolled her eyes to the heavens. "What!"

"Can we kiss?" he asked, a hopeful light in his eyes.

She was quick to answer. "Only if it's a dire necessity," she replied. "When will this girl be coming by the house, anyway?"

"Soon. Very soon. Probably before nightfall. I give her that long before she finally tracks me down."

"Well, whatever. Get busy." She took another step.

"Y'know," Yamcha said softly, a small smile on his lips, "I never stopped loving you. I will always love you, Bulma. Know that."

Bulma stopped, the words wrapping themselves around her heart like an iron fist. It had been so long since she had heard those words…

"Yamcha, I can't allow that kind of talk," she said quietly, not looking back. "I'm married, despite whatever you want. I'm married to the man I love. Don't forget it." She took off down the hall and slammed the door to the lab behind her.

"There you are!" Krillin jumped to his feet. He had dragged up a chair beside his beloved android and was holding her lifeless hand as if he would never let go. "Sorry to ask, but what kept you? It's been almost an hour…"

"I had a few things to work out," she replied idly. Moving to the computer, she set to work finding and eradicating the glitches that had found their way into the android's system. "The body's completely repaired," she told her friend, waving a hand across the blond's body. "She'll be up and about within the next twenty four hours. I'll just need to install a few more programs and she'll be good as--"

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM._

"What was that?" Krillin wondered, looking around curiously. Then his eyes fell on Bulma. All the color had drained from her face, and she was staring at the door to the room containing the gravity chambers in utter horror. Smoke whispered out from beneath the closed door, carrying with it the scent of charred rubber and burning flesh.

"Vegeta," she gasped, jumping to her feet. Hitting a few buttons, she set the computer to automatic and sprinted to the door, pressing the open button over and over and screaming in frustration. When the door finally opened, she was greeted by a wall of black fog that swept over her entire body, sending her coughing and hacking into the crook of her arm. "Vegeta!" she cried, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She ran into the room, frantically throwing aside bits of debris.

"No no no not again! Please, God, not again! I thought I fixed this damn thing! Dammit, Vegeta, why did you have to clobber it again!" Falling to her knees, she scraped at the pile that was emitting the foul-smelling smog with her bare hands, scratching her fingers bloody with the effort. She paid her minor cuts no heed - Vegeta was her only concern.

"Why…are you looking over there…you stupid woman?"

Bulma whirled around to find the Saiyan Prince leaning heavily upon a shorted console, his breath coming in labored gasps from a bloody mouth. His face was a mass of blood-sodden ash, and bits of broken glass clung to the sticky mess. A shard of a train-o-bot stuck out of his left eye, which was squeezed tight shut around the pain.

"Oh…my God…" she whispered. Stumbling to her feet, she ran toward him, horrified at the pain she had caused with her miscalculated machine. She tried to reach out to him, but he feebly knocked her hand away.

"I thought…you fixed…that damn machine," he said haltingly, trying his best to put on a prideful glare. "You really…are useless." He sank to his knees, coughing up another mouthful of blood.

"Shh, shh, don't talk…" Kneeling beside him, she pulled him against her with gentle hands, brushing the sweaty hair out of his mangled eyes. "Here, hold still, I'm going to clear away some of this glass--"

"Don't touch me!" he roared, trying to bat her away, but succeeding only in throwing his arm around her waist.

"Doesn't this remind you of the way we met?" she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. Her mind was picturing the day the gravity room had first exploded, leaving the prince a bed-ridden mess. She had cared for him, brought him food, gotten close to him in his time of weakness… Sucking in a deep breath, she began to carefully remove the shards of glass from his cheek. He did not flinch, but leaned against her in resignation, allowing her to take out the biting needles that had dug deep into his skin. As she worked, tears slipped down her cheeks and fell onto his bare shoulders, making him glance up sharply. The shard embedded in his eye stuck out at a strange angle, but it had missed the cornea. A brief stab of relief flooded through her heart, adding extra strength to the torrents.

"What are you crying about, woman?" he demanded, brow furrowing in disgust.

"I hate to see you hurt," she replied softly, brushing the hot liquid away with the back of her blood-stained hand. "I just can't stand it."

"Huh. It's just a scratch," he snorted. Then he began to cough, sending little flecks of blood flying from his mouth. Bulma bit her lip and held him closer.

"Don't die," she whispered. "Please, Vegeta. Please don't die."

The Saiyan snickered softly. "You are a fool." Closing his eyes, he leaned heavily against her as his labored breathing immediately became slow and heavy. The life-saving shroud of sleep had fallen over his wounded body, allowing it to heal faster without the hindrance of pain.

Bulma heaved a sigh of relief. Shifting her husband so she could try to carry him over her shoulder, she attempted to lift him off the ground. His muscle-bound body barely came an inch off the shattered floor. Not knowing what else to do, she called for Krillin, who came rushing into the room as if he had only needed an excuse.

"Whoa," he commented, looking around. "What happened here?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Bulma snapped. "Here, take his other arm. Thankfully nothing was broken - just a few flesh wounds. But if I don't stop the bleeding soon, I may…" she gulped - "…lose him."

"Of course," Krillin said quickly, doing as he was told. Between the two of them, they managed to heft Vegeta into the recovery room and onto a bed. Bulma thanked Krillin and bid him leave, wanting to be alone to tend to her husband. The short warrior left, casting worried glances over his shoulder. Though he couldn't say he was scared for Vegeta's sake, he wondered how Bulma would fare if things took a turn for the worse.

"Goodbye, Krillin," Bulma said forcefully, pressing a button to close the door behind him.


	3. Love Doesn't Exist

(A/N: Okay. Here's the deal, guys. Starting next Saturday night (and not including this chapter, duh), I'm gonna be updating on a weekly basis until the story is finished. A warning! Somewhere along the line the rating WILL GO UP. It will be nothing gawd-awful explicit, but this site doesn't allow any sexual insinuation in the T category, and I respect their rules. I don't think anyone should be scared away by that warning, but if you're bothered by stuff like that…well yeah, don't read it. Sorry, that's enough for the warnings. Like I said before; just trying to capture the right audience who is mentally mature enough for 'innuendo' makes a face And it'll end up being a pretty good length, so just bear with me; I'll try not to write a boring chapter.

(Anyway, I'm glad you're liking the story so far. sneaky grin There are gonna be so many twists and turns in this story that you won't know your toes from your fingers. Whether that's a good thing or not is up to you, but I'm kinda looking forward to seeing your reactions. Please keep writing in and tell me what you think; I love all the reviews I get. One for each chapter would be nice…halo There are always things I need to improve if I want to become a professional writer, and you all are the teachers who grade my papers. Stupid analogy, I know, but hey what can you do. You guys are the best. Okay, I'm gonna shut up now and let you get to reading.

Ciao, everyone. R&R.)

Hours of careful emergency surgery and worry ensued. Bulma bent tirelessly over her wounded husband, removing every shard of glass with precision and care. Finally the last of the glass was out and the wounds disinfected and wrapped, and the girl sank back into her chair with an exhausted sigh.

"My, this does remind me of how we got together," she muttered, glancing at her patient's bandaged body with a reminiscent eye. Leaning forward, she crossed her arms on the railing of the bed and rested her chin upon them. She stroked his forehead tenderly, fond memories playing across the white bedspread. He had told her everything about the Saiyan race. She had held his hand as they talked, and he had not fought back. Perhaps he couldn't have removed himself from her grip even if he tried. She didn't know. But what she did know was that he had looked upon her then with an expression that had never returned after his recovery. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even realize she had drifted off just as she had what seemed like so many years ago. But this time was a little different; her head had slipped down to rest upon his chest, its steady rise and fall lulling her into a dreamless sleep.

"Bulma! Bulma, where are you? Please, Ranessa is here! Remember what we agreed on? Oh please don't have gone out…"

Yamcha sprinted down the steps leading to the lower portion of the lab, looking wildly for the blue-haired beauty that ever seemed to elude him. Mr. and Mrs. Briefs held Ranessa at the door with their mindless chit-chat, but that would only retain the drunken model for a little while. Hoping fervently that they wouldn't let anything slip, he rounded a corner and skidded to a halt in the main part of the lab.

"Yamcha?" Krillin called from where he cradled 18 in his short arms. The android had long since awakened, and was now regarding the intruder with cold interest. Sitting up, she pushed her blond hair behind her ear and crossed her arms.

"What do you want?" she asked icily. "Bulma is in the recovery room with Vegeta. Leave."

"Uh…yes ma'am," he replied with a frown, then took off into the recovery room. "Bulma! I need--" His voice was cut off by a strangled cry as the scene before him sank in.

Awakened by a sudden chill in the night, Bulma had irritably jerked out of her slumber and took a sleepy look around. The entire room was dark except for the soft beam of the equipment, and she vaguely wondered what she had been doing. Getting to her feet, she stumbled across the room and pulled a few hospital sheets from the cabinet, planning to crawl into one of the numerous hospital beds for the remainder of the night. But as she was walking toward an unoccupied cot, she heard Vegeta moan and shift in his uneasy slumber. Concerned and now fully awake, she pulled a small penlight out of her shirt pocket and shone it on the Saiyan prince.

He was tangled in the sheets and bathed in a cold sweat, making his clothes stick to his body as he tossed and turned on the slender mattress. Over and over his mouth formed the harsh words of the Saiyan tongue, as if he were silently screaming in his pain drugged dream. Biting her lip, the girl had eased herself into the bed beside him and slipped her arms around his neck, stroking the base of his hair and murmuring soft words of comfort against his cheek. The prince calmed almost immediately, as if the presence of another returned the cool, if unconscious, mindset to his proud soul. With a final shudder, he had slumped against her, sinking back into a dreamless sleep.

Not knowing what else to do, Bulma had curled up against his warmth and closed her eyes, planning to sneak out of the lab long before he ever awoke to save his pride. She wasn't that tired…

After all, she was only exhausted.

Yamcha now saw the two entwined beneath the hospital sheets, curled around each others' bodies like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Both still wore all their clothes, thankfully, but the fact that it was almost impossible to tell one from the other seemed to cancel that out as Yamcha looked on in inexplicable silent fury.

"Bulma!" he hissed, poking the girl hard in the side.

"Hnn…" she mumbled, nestling closer to Vegeta. The Saiyan Prince, though unconscious, compensated for her move and drew her tighter against him, snaking his left leg through hers to bring them ever closer.

"Bulma!" he said again, this time louder. The blue eyes flickered open.

"Wha…what?" Blinking in the sudden light, the girl attempted to stretch, only to find her arms pinned beneath the Saiyan's heavy torso. Still half asleep, she wondered idly if she had gotten her hand stuck under the mattress again.

Then it hit her.

"Oh…my God," she whispered.

The incredible warmth of Vegeta's powerful body enveloped her as his sweet breath flowed lightly across her face from between parted lips. His strong hands rested lightly on her waist; it was almost as if the curves had been designed for them to rest there. Not noticing Yamcha in the least, she shuddered as a wave of desire flooded from her head to hear toes; it was almost as if someone had dumped a bucket of water that was both hot and cold all over her body. She felt the closeness of his hips, the way his leg entwined with hers… Without even thinking about it, she snaked her head up and closed her lips over his, slipping her tongue between those sweet, parted lips…

"Bulma!" Yamcha shouted, startling her from her brief moment of fantasy.

She sat up immediately, the force of her movement tearing her arms from beneath Vegeta's body. Her cheeks were stained a bloody crimson as she glared furiously at the intruder.

"WHAT!" she hissed, rage flowing over him like a tsunami. She cast a worried glance at Vegeta and was relieved to find him still asleep. Rounding on Yamcha, she clambered to her feet and shoved him out of the room, hastily closing the door behind them. "What do you want! I was a little busy--"

"Yeah, I could see that," he muttered, shuddering. "But remember our deal? That girl I told you about has finally found me, and I really need you to keep up with your end of the bargain. I fed Trunks, bathed him, dressed him, got peed on--"

"Yaaaaaaaaamcha!" came a singsongy voice. Ranessa flounced down the stairs in a tangle of messy blond curls. "Where aaaaaaare you?"

"Uh, with my wife!" he called back, quickly snaking his arm around Bulma's waist and tugging her close. She shot him an incredulous look, but decided to play along for the sake of curiosity.

"Wife?" she asked, confused. "I thought ya said you were single, baby!" A gurgling laugh bubbled up from her stomach, and her flushed cheeks grew redder still. "Kinda scrawny, ain't she?"

Bulma's cheeks burned with their own inner fire, but before she could come back with a scathing reply, Yamcha pinched her side to silence her.

"No," he answered truthfully, casting an appreciative sidelong glance at Bulma's well-toned body. "She's just right."

"How do I know yer not pullin' my leg?" she slurred, pulling a flask of brandy from her leather purse. "Y'seemed single enough when ya slept with me."

The orange-outfitted fighter's mouth flapped open and closed. Bulma raised an eyebrow, glaring at Yamcha with undisguised revulsion. "You didn't tell me _that_, DEAR," she snarled. To think she had almost married this man for real!

"Oh, uh, well, I was drop-dead drunk when I met you, Ranessa, and I um…" he stammered, black eyes darting back and forth between the two women. "It was a tryst, really! I didn't know what I was doing!"

"Sure you didn't," the blue-haired genius muttered, slipping out of his grasp and folding her arms before her. _ Just like you didn't sleep with that girl from New York, and that exchange student from Britain! And that prostitute you met on the street. And you wonder why I turned you down!_

"Heh, don't sweat it. That's what I like about ya," she smirked, pinching his cheek. "I can be a li'l naughty myself, y'know…"

"I wouldn't doubt it," Bulma put in, turning up her nose.

"But I love Bulma!" Yamcha bellowed, making both girls jump in surprise. Taking Bulma by the hands, he pushed his lips against hers, holding her fast with the strength of his will. The girl tried to struggle, but found herself held fast.

Ranessa regarded them with drunken amusement, then, with a final glance over their shoulder, turned to leave. "Well, Yamcha, whenever ya feel like giving up this act, I'll be back!" She shot him a sexy smile. "See ya tomorrow, sugar." With that, she sauntered up the stairs and left.

Yamcha, however, didn't stop. Despite her nails digging into his knuckles, he pushed her against the wall, attempting to slip his tongue between her tightly closed lips.

_God, Yamcha! Stop! Stop it! Dammit, how can you do this to me! _She squeezed her eyes shut, trying with all her might to break free of the iron grasp. If only she had been a Saiyan…

"How touching."

Yamcha's eyes opened wide, and he whirled around. Bulma sank, gasping, to the floor, craning her neck to see the one person she longed for most - was closest to - yet somehow could not have.

Vegeta leaned against the door, arms crossed, his head cocked dangerously to the side. The coal black eyes flickered ominously green as they bore deeply into those of the man before him.

"Please, continue," the prince said sarcastically, waving a hand with feigned magnanimity. "I would like to witness this thing you pathetic humans call love."

"You already did it to her, you asshole," Yamcha grated. "I haven't."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, bearing a striking resemblance to an expression worn by Bulma not ten minutes before. "Done what? Loved her? Hardly."

"I mean sex, idiot!" Yamcha yelled, wondering at his own audacity. "You already took her, you raving maniac!"

"Oh, so is that all they're good for?" Vegeta retorted. "Then you'll excuse me if I don't stick around after all!" He pushed away from the wall to take a step forward. "But there are a few things I want to know before I leave you to your pleasures."

Bulma noticed with a heart-wrenching pang that he favored his right leg, which was swollen and black, that she had overlooked in her haste to remove the glass. His left eye was matted shut with a sickening yellow ooze; infection had set into the wounded eye over the course of the night. However, the proud Saiyan Prince showed no outward sign of pain. The good eye was kept carefully squinted as he fought to maintain some form of a smirk.

"Is that what human 'love' is all about? Mating?" He spat at Yamcha's feet.

"N-no!" Yamcha sputtered. "Wait just one minute, you despicable--"

"I think there's another word for that - one that is actually quite common in my native tongue.," Vegeta continued, staring the feeble attempts at defense into silence. "Your foolish translation, however, would have to be lust." The eye narrowed even further, nearly set ablaze under the lowered lid as he turned his scathing gaze upon his wife. "It's just as I thought. There is no such thing as 'love'; it's all a stupid fantasy you humans use as an excuse to send the streets crawling with your misbegotten brats! It's no wonder we don't have a word for it. It doesn't exist!" Attempting to whirl on his heel, the Saiyan Prince stumbled on his crippled leg and crashed to the floor in a flurry of thumps and curses.

Breaking free of Yamcha at last, Bulma ran to his side, attempting to slip her arms under his and help him to his feet. Vegeta shook her away with a look of utter disgust, digging his fingers into the metal wall and pulling himself up. Where he touched the cured iron, blackened scorch-marks trailed behind his scrabbling hands.

"To think I almost believed you!" he hissed, wiping the crust from his eye. "Tell me, woman; do you 'love' him too? Do you 'love' that man in that picture with you in the ridiculous red dress?" His voice lowered dangerously as he forced the last question through gritted teeth. "Do you love that idiot Kakarott!"

"No! Vegeta, please--!"

"You would do well to never speak to me again, arrogant little whore!" Locking his knee against the pain, he walked without limping toward the window. With his hand on the latch, he cast her one last ferocious glare. "I am honor bound in my promise to you to raise the brat until he comes of age," he spat, "and I will honor that vow with my pride. And that is assuming the little monster is even mine!" Then, in a rush of power, he was gone.

Bulma stared after him in stunned silence. Tears trickled down her cheeks in slow motion, and she found her hand traveling to her heart.

"V…Vegeta…"

Yamcha seemed equally floored, but was determined to regain some shred of his dignity. "C…can you believe him?" he scoffed, taking a step forward. "I've never seen a guy have it more wrong. Egotistical little bastard. I'll bet he only slept with you because he had nothing better to--"

"Vegeta _slept _with me because he _felt_ for me!" Bulma exploded, whirling around to jab a finger in his face. Despite what she had told her mother only a few days earlier, she was voicing now more what she needed to hear than what she believed. But she got carried away in the rush of emotion and began to speak the innermost desires of her heart as if they were fact.

"Vegeta _slept_ with me because I helped to bear his pain! Vegeta _slept _with me because I was there when NO ONE ELSE CARED!" She shoved him back against the wall, pounding as hard as she could upon his muscled chest. "Vegeta took full responsibility, even though he knew next to nothing about weddings, regardless of his own needs or desires! Vegeta made a promise, and he kept it! _Still_ keeps it! He's a loner, but he made a sacrifice for honor! I know he can never love me, but at least he's not a two faced, lowlife, lying, sunnuva…" The blows slowed, and she eventually stopped to let her head sink into her hands.

"It must have looked…so bad," she whispered. "The way we were…what he saw… what he must have thought…!"

"B…Bulma, I'm so…so sorry…"

"No you're not!" she yelled, angry again. "You've always wanted to get into my pants. Don't you even dare try to deny it! But I'd have ended up just like all the other girls; used, pregnant, and forgotten, watching you go off with some new little tart the very next night!"  
"Bulma--!"

"You only wanted me so much because you couldn't have me," she grated in a low voice. "You knew I had you figured out! I saw all the numbers on your cell phone. I knew you were calling them; Tracy, Laina, Amber, I saw them all! Get out, Yamcha. Our deal is off. Get out before I call the police."

"But--"

"OUT!" she roared through a haze of tears. Yamcha whirled around and ran out the door, his feet pounding the pavement as he sped out of sight.

Sinking to her knees, Bulma once more buried her face in her hands. "What possessed me to agree to such a thing? I should've known this would happen!" she berated herself, asking a question to which she knew she already had the answer. In her heart, she knew she had longed to be held and coddled and appreciated. She knew she would never receive the kind of attention she so desperately needed from Vegeta. At the time of the agreement, she had convinced herself that she was doing it to earn herself a free babysitter, but now she could only admit to herself that what she really wanted was affection.

_Someone to hold me…_

Shuddering with silent sobs, she pulled her knees up to her chest and cried.


	4. Bonds of Blood

(A/N: Okay, updated on Saturday, as promised. Rating goes up next chapter. A little in depth with Vegeta's past aka his father's story, and fully made up. None of the stuff in the story is actually from the series, but it fit well into my own fic. So hope you like it. R&R.)

"Idiot woman! Foolish wretch!" Vegeta flew as fast as he could through the crisp summer air, letting the lashing wind sting his crusted eyes and whip his hair in coiling spirals against his neck. Below, cities became anthills and the people the ants as the citizens of earth bustled on their busy way. Cars and trucks seemed to inch along the winding streams of asphalt as the Saiyan easily reached their speed and surpassed it. He folded his arms and snorted in disgust.

Rotating in the air, the prince turned his back upon the hectic scene, preferring instead to watch the endless expanse of space stretch limitlessly on ahead. His good eye fixed on the soaring cirrus clouds, he let himself drift into watchful meditation.

As always, the most prominent thing on his mind came forward for mental debate. Why had he let himself fall so far under that woman's spell? How many other miserable fools had she exchanged those idiot vows with? How many of her misbegotten brats walked the streets of Earth? How could she dare to expect anything from the Saiyan prince?

_Why had he chosen her?_

"Bah, I haven't 'chosen' anyone," he growled to himself, digging his molars into the edge of his tongue. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not shove the images of her to the back of his mind. Try as he might, the memories of their night together clawed painfully at his soul.

Despite what he had told Bulma, Saiyans did occasionally opt to stay with a single partner for the remainder of their lives, merging their life energies into one to increase in ki and strength. It was quite uncommon - but not unheard of - for a Saiyan to choose a life mate. Though not founded on affection, the relationship involved an enormous degree of loyalty and trust - two traits not often found in the proud and independent race. Now that he thought about it, only about six Saiyan couples ever performed the binding ritual in the history of Vejetaseii.

One such couple was his parents.

As a young Saiyaling barely big enough to defeat his first Saibaman, the prince had heard the story countless times from Nappa, his appointed guardian. The top-ranking warrior took particular pride in knowing the extraordinary history of the royal family, tracing Vegeta's legacy all the way back to the first Saiyan Emperor. As the story went, King Vegeta had been the next in line for the throne when he had met his future mate. Assigned to lead an elite task force to Planet Vorenza, the crown prince, in his arrogance, had only deigned to take half of the squad, claiming with a sneer that to take all eight would be 'overkill'. He selected four of the best warriors to accompany him; one of which was his mother.

Teraynia was the daughter of a high-ranking overlord of the western bounds, trained to be the pinnacle of Saiyan expertise. First in her class, she was confident in her ability to destroy any obstacle in her way.

The squad had exchanged good-natured banter on the trip to the doomed planet. Vegeta's father had smirked at their wit, but remained silent, anticipating the destruction to come. However, when they had arrived on Vorenza, they made a gruesome discovery.

The planet had no moon.

Their best weapon thwarted, the Saiyans were desperately outnumbered by the fierce Vorenzians. An army of the serpentine creatures swarmed into their path, wielding wicked razor-sharp daggers with deadly accuracy. Before the sun had set upon the first day, two of the original four lay dead on the field, leaving Crown Prince Vegeta and Teraynia fighting back-to-back in desperate determination.

As they fought, the two came to a mutual conclusion; without drastic measures, they would not survive the night. They made a quick decision - they would bond their energies together and fight as one. On the count of three, they both fired energy waves at the ground. The dry dirt flew up angrily, creating a shroud of impenetrable darkness that rendered the Vorenzian's weak eyes completely useless.

Under the cover of the veil, the two spoke the ancient words in perfect sync, their eyes never leaving those of their partner as their tails entwined, drawing them tightly against each other's backs. They stretched their arms to heaven, each making a fist with one hand while enclosing the balled fingers of the other with the one that remained. Then the personal part of the ritual began, in which the pair selects a single name for the conjoined entities under a shroud of light. What happened next was unsure, for it is different for every couple and is never spoken of again.

Needless to say, Vorenza fell.

Vegeta was startled from his reverie by a shout from below. Whirling so that he hung upside down in the air, he looked down upon a small capsule house that sat by a stream, lolling lazily in the summer sun. The prince recognized it immediately; it was Kakarot's house!

"Gohan, come in and eat something before I have to come over there and drag you!" Chichi hollered from the doorway, hands planted on her hips. Gohan sat a little ways off under the shade of an oak, the sunlight shimmering on his jet-black hair. The half-Saiyan barely glanced up at his mother before turning back to the stream, hunching his shoulders a little more as if to ward off some unseen blow.

"Gohan!" Chichi yelled again, becoming annoyed. Without bothering to put on any shoes, the fiery woman stomped across the yard and whirled her son around. "What is the meaning of this?" she growled. "You're being ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous, mom!" Gohan shot back, glaring angrily at his mother. "I can't just shake it off like it's nothing! Over and over I see how it could have gone differently. I see the things I could have done that would have saved his life!" Tears spilled over onto his clenched fists. "I lost my father, mom," he said quietly.

"And I lost my husband," Chichi retorted, a muscle twitching in her cheek. "But starving yourself to death isn't gonna bring him back! Goku wouldn't want you to act like this," she went on, tears of her own sparkling on the corners of her eyes. "He'd…he'd say to just eat a hearty meal…and it would all go away." She abruptly turned her back and started away. A tremor in her voice, she called over her shoulder, "When you're hungry, I made miso soup. It's on the stove." With that, she disappeared back into the house.

On a whim, Vegeta slipped silently down to the back door, knowing that Chichi would remain around front waiting for her son to finally come in. He listened for a moment, then pushed open the door and limped inside.

The house was much simpler than Bulma's, with only two floors and five rooms. The furniture was old and worn, unlike the pristine, top-of-the-line leather living room set at the Briefs'. A small TV sat on a homemade wooden stand, marking the only furniture against the east wall. But what the house lacked in furniture, it made up for in love.

Picture frames dotted the walls from corner to corner, portraying a young Goku on his adventures across the continent. Bulma posed beside Yamcha in one such photo; the two had their arms around each other and were smiling as if they had each received all the wealth in the world. Vegeta found himself beginning to frown, and immediately reprimanded his mouth into a stoic line. "Huh. It's no surprise," he muttered, moving on.

Farther down the wall, more recent pictures were enlarged and hung in more ornate carved frames. Pictures of Goku and his family doing various activities were most common, but occasionally the entire group was shown in a variety of poses, ranging from happy smiles to downright irritation. Vegeta's cheek twitched as he came across the one taken a few months before the androids had attacked. Bulma held him in a death grip, her arms wrapped tightly around one of his and one of her hands pulling his scowling mouth into a demented sort of smile. Goku and Chichi stood beside them, holding hands and laughing at the ridiculous scene to their right. Growling, the prince turned his back and staggered down the hall toward the door.

"I don't know what possessed me to enter this stupid place," he said under his breath, pointedly staring straight ahead to avoid looking at the walls. "I'm starting to become as bizarre as Kakarot himself!" Rounding a corner, he was about to leave when Chichi walked into the room, carrying a feather duster and a bottle of Pledge.

"Shit!" he hissed, fading back into the shadowed corner of the hall. The woman took no notice, being too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear the slight stir of the Saiyan Prince lurking in the shadows.

"So you're gone again, you stupid Saiyan," she murmured, picking up one of their pictures from the top of the TV. Sinking down onto the sofa, she blew the dust on the glass away with a soft puff of breath. Curious, Vegeta craned his neck to see what the picture portrayed. In the photo, Goku held tight to a tailed baby Gohan with his usual ridiculous smile, and Chichi stood proudly beside him with her hands clasped in front of her.

"I always knew you'd never be around for long. Sooner or later you were bound to get yourself killed, what with all the enemies you've made…" Hugging the picture close, she settled back into the cushions. "Huh. Yeah, I knew it all along. What I didn't know…was how much I would miss you." A single tear rolled down her careworn cheek, and she quickly brushed it away with the hem of her sleeve. "Bulma's always complaining that she's got it rough," she muttered, forcing away her grief with a stubborn frown. "She's still got _her_ husband, for what it's worth. Vegeta may not be the most loving idiot around, but at least she knows he's alive and well! I've got a little boy and another one on the way and no one to help me! All she's got is the one, and she's got parents and Yamcha to help out…" She sighed. "And look at me. You've been gone so long that I've started talking to myself. Well, Mr. I-Can-Run-Off-and-Let-Chichi-Do-It-All-With-the-Excuse-of-Being-Dead, when you come back, you'll probably find that I've found a much better conversational companion - myself!" Finally letting a laugh escape her tired lips, she stood up and replaced the picture with loving care upon its perch. She turned back to the couch to pick up her cleaning supplies when a slight breeze ruffled her black hair. "What was that?" she wondered, staring at the suddenly open window. "I could have sworn that was closed a few minutes ago…"

The curtain only flapped in the breeze, not giving any hint that a Saiyan had used it for escape not moments before.

Vegeta swooped through the baby's window just as the sun was starting to go down, alighting with a crash upon the floor as his injured leg finally gave out. Cursing his wounds and what had caused them, he hefted himself up on his remaining leg and hobbled to the crib, looking down upon the sleeping child within.

Trunks lay peacefully on his back, a pacifier hanging half out of his sticky mouth and the baby blanket strewn haphazardly over one leg. His tiny hand clutched the arm of a teddy bear, whose eyes had been torn off - and most likely eaten - and whose stuffing was coming out in more places than one. Vegeta eyed the worn plaything in disdain, peeling his son's little fingers away from the disgusting toy. The baby woke immediately and began to cry.

"Shut up shut up!" the prince hissed, shooting anxious glances at the door. The infant only proceeded to cry louder, causing his father to wince and grasp the rail of the crib with a terrified hand. "If you don't shut up," he threatened, "I'm going to blast you!"

Not understanding, Trunks only wailed. Sighing in exasperation, Vegeta clamped his hand over the child's mouth. The baby shot him a surprised look, then began to struggle under his father's heavy hand.

"God, you even scream like her!" Vegeta growled. Scooping him up by the ankle, Vegeta regarded him with a curious eye. Trunks apparently thought this was some sort of new game, for he stopped howling and began to giggle as Vegeta raised him to eye level.

"You are about the ugliest child I have ever seen," Vegeta commented, wrinkling his nose. "Your eyes are blue, you look like an albino raisin with purple hair, and you have no tail! Where's your Saiyan blood, brat?"

Trunks gurgled in delight, reaching out to stuff his fingers up Vegeta's nose.

"Wh…What the hell do you think you're doing!" Vegeta thundered, eyes going wide enough to separate the thick layer of crust that held the left one shut. He tried to peel him off, but was greeted by an energy blast in the face. The weakened leg gave once more, and the mighty Saiyan prince crashed to the ground. Trunks landed easily on top of him, babbling happily to himself as he kicked his father repeatedly in the ribs.

"I guess that answers my question," Vegeta muttered, propping himself up on his elbows to stare the child in the face. Trunks shimmied forward and grabbed the Saiyan's lips, pulling them into a ludicrous sneer with a shriek of glee. Rolling his eyes to heaven and using every ounce of willpower he had not to strangle the kid on the spot, Vegeta let his head thunk back against the carpet. After all, he had a vow to fulfill, no matter how obnoxious the whelp could be.

"I guess I'll have to get used to you, you putrid little runt," he muttered. But as he was about to get up and drop Trunks back into his crib, the baby slipped his tiny face up underneath Vegeta's chin, nestling close to his father and closing his eyes. The Saiyan started visibly, and he frowned down at the sleeping baby in utter shock. Saiyan babies never did such things! It was unacceptable. And yet… Vegeta hesitantly brought his hand up and placed it on the small of the baby's back.

"Just this once!" he growled under his breath, a flush of embarrassment staining his cheeks. Letting his hand drop back to his side, he stared up at the ceiling, watching memories of Vejitaseii play themselves aimlessly upon the stark white tiles.


	5. Just this Once the Full Moon Binds Me

(A/N: Rating's up. Hehe. Like I said, nothing too explicit. Another thing about later chapters; there will be a guy with a cheezy name, but bear with me the name goes with the story. The story may get a lull later on, but it'll get hot n heavy soon enough with Vegeta struggling with what he believes is lust. FYI: the story will kind of go in order of the summary. Right now we're at the part 'Two People Merged for the Sake of Emptiness', so hopefully that'll give you some idea of the story yet to come and how far we have to go. Thanks for sticking with me everyone, it means a lot. BTW: I'm going to do another fic after this one is done. Would you all like to see more BV or another couple? Write in and tell me. R&R.)

Bulma hadn't moved since Vegeta left. She still sat in the same position, her head dropped carelessly onto her folded arms as she willed the tears to stop. As of yet she had not succeeded, but she was still trying desperately to quell the pain that gripped her heart. She didn't even hear the soft footfalls as they slowly approached the door.

"Bulma?" Krillin ventured, poking his head around the corner. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" she muttered, swiping the back of her hand across her sodden cheeks. Krillin shook his head awkwardly, and she managed to smile despite herself. "Don't worry about it, Krillin. It's only one more thing to add to the pile." Finally finding the strength to heft herself to her feet, she stepped over to her friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. "How's 18?" she asked conversationally, trying to draw attention away from her bloodshot eyes.

"Uh, she's good," Krillin replied, shooting her a sidelong look. "She's waiting for me out there. But what I really came to tell you was that Piccolo gathered the Dragonballs while you were…er…doing whatever it was in there."

"Really? That's great!" she exclaimed with a laugh that sounded a little too forced. "So you're sure they're not gonna be able to talk Goku into coming back to Earth?"

"Naw, I don't think he'll ever change his mind," the small warrior said sullenly. "He's so deadset against coming back here it's almost scary. Er, no pun intended with the '_dead_set' thing."

The girl put on a crooked grin. "Of course not. Well, if Goku's not being wished back to life, what are they gonna use that extra wish for?"

"I think I'm gonna use it to…" he trailed off into a mumble, shuffling his feet and staring blankly into at his boots.

"What's that? Speak up, dummy, I can't hear you!"

"I think I'm gonna use it to get rid of the bomb in 18's chest," he rushed, flicking his eyes across her face to see her reaction. "It's dangerous while it's there, and I was thinking that maybe Shenron could…uh…make her a little more human. Do you think that's possible?"

Bulma put on her most winning smile. "Nothing's impossible for the Eternal Dragon, stupid!" she laughed, clapping her hand down upon his shiny head. "I'm sure you and 18 will make a lovely couple."  
Krillin flushed redder than a beet. "Y-yeah, I h-hope so…" he stammered.

"So when are they doing the summoning?" she asked in a too-cheerful chirp. "I guess I'd better head up there with them or they'd probably mess it up. They can never do anything right without me around!" she added with a wink.

Glad to see that Bulma was looking a little better, Krillin smirked and nodded his agreement. "Yeah, really. They're probably gonna do it about noon tomorrow. I'll be sure to let you know before I take off. So you agree that taking that bomb out is a good idea?"

"Absolutely. The last thing Master Roshi needs is for a bomb to blow up Kame House. Don't look at me like that, everyone knows you're mooching off the old lecher. I'll bet you even read his dirty magazines, don't you?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Krillin said hastily, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "I only read the swimsuit editions of Sports Illustrated, and only rarely!"

Bulma was about to reply when 18 slapped a heavy hand down upon Krillin's shoulder, making the little man jump in surprise. "I don't care what you read," she announced, "because I know none of those digitally altered models will ever look anywhere near as good as me." She shot him a sexy leer and folded her arms across her chest. Krillin smiled weakly in return and turned an even darker shade of crimson.

"Like master, like pupil, I guess," Bulma snickered. "Well, I'd better go put Trunks in bed. I hope Mama watched out for him after Yamcha left." _The no good hussy,_ she added silently, a bitter sneer turning her lip.

"Alright. Seeya tomorrow." Turning back to 18, Krillin waved over his shoulder and led the beautiful android out into the garage, and from there out into the waning sunlight. Bulma watched them finally allowing the fake smile to slip from her face and become an envious frown as Krillin gently took 18's hand and flew out of sight.

"Not even a thank you," she muttered. Spinning on her heel, she clomped back up the stairs to see the mess Yamcha had made of her son.

She was about to mount her second flight of steps when her father caught her by the arm, drawing her to a halt at his side. "Bulma, what was going on earlier?" he asked with a slight frown. "Your mother told me the gravity room collapsed."

_You didn't hear that?_ she wondered. Sometimes her father could be so oblivious. "Yeah. Vegeta went in when it wasn't fully repaired. I didn't think it would be much of a problem, since I doubted he would try to train under so many G's after such a big fight. But…well, you know Vegeta." Shrugging slightly, she moved once more for the stairs.

"Just a moment, dear. I have another question. What was going on with Yamcha? That girl seemed to have her heart set on finding him. She was a sweet thing. Kind of air headed, but sweet. Has the boy finally moved on?"

"Hardly!" she scoffed, tossing her hair indignantly over her shoulder. "He came here to _hide _from her! He met her at a bar, slept with her, then couldn't get rid of her."

Mr. Briefs regarded her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something else. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, not wanting to tell the rest of her story. It was too embarrassing.

"Well, if that's all it was…" her father began, shooting her a meaningful glance.

Bulma nodded clumsily and hurried up the stairs. However, at the middle landing, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder, not surprised to find her dad staring after her with the same expectant face.

"He said he still loved me," she said softly. "He asked me to pretend to be his wife so he could get out of seeing that drunken whore again. Stupidest request I've ever heard! I--"

"--agreed, didn't you?" her father supplied with a knowing nod.

The girl tapped her toe against the top step. "Well, yeah. What else could I do? He was desperate, and I needed a babysitter anyway."

The doctor shook his head. "Bulma, you know that wasn't a smart thing to do."

"I do now!" she snapped. "I figured it couldn't be that bad, but boy was I wrong! He practically smashed me against the wall trying to kiss me--"

"Kissing you."

"Okay, fine, kissing me -- RIGHT IN FRONT OF VEGETA!" She tore at her hair in outrage, used to her parents somehow knowing every one of her thoughts before she even thought them. "And now…and now Vegeta's gone and probably will never come back except to train and raise Trunks. He probably - no, definitely! - doesn't even want to do _that_, but he has to because of that stupid promise that doesn't mean much of anything anyway!" Blowing out an irritated sigh, she tucked the clawed-at hair back behind her ear. "Daddy, why are men so stupid?"

"Well, I wouldn't be the one to ask that particular question, pumpkin," he laughed. "But I think you should go put Trunks down now. I think you'll be surprised when you go in and see where he's laying."

Bulma's eyes went wide. "Yamcha, what did you do!" Whirling around, she pounded up the stairs and slammed into the baby's room. A strangled gasp escaped her as she fell back a step.

Trunks lay in the middle of the floor, drooling heavily on the baby blue carpet. His baby blanket was thrown hastily across his shoulders; it looked as if someone had been in a big hurry to leave the child behind.

"Probably threw him down the moment he heard Ranessa at the door," Bulma sneered, gently gathering up her son to put him back in his crib. Though she was extremely careful, Trunks stirred and reached out to grab her shirt.

"Da…Daaaadaaa…" he gurgled with a happy smile.

Bulma blinked. "What did you say?" she whispered, slipping her hands under his arms and bringing him up to eye level. But the baby was fully awake now, and he apparently wasn't happy with what he saw. Trunks let out an ear-splitting wail, thrashing so hard Bulma had to hook her arms around him in a bear hug just to keep him in her grasp.

"T-Trunks! What's wrong, honey? Please, calm down!" she pleaded, burying her nose in her son's silky hair. The baby quieted slowly, diminishing from a shriek to series of low hiccups. Bulma however, kept her head resting upon her son's for a moment longer. When she finally looked up, her brow was furrowed into an expression of utter confusion.

"Odd," she breathed, glancing down at him. "You smell like…like Vegeta." She looked over her shoulder at the place where Trunks had lain, blue eyes scanning the rug for some sign that the prince had been there. There was none - not even an indention in the carpet. Scooting a little closer, she ran her fingers across the soft fibers. To her surprise, a wide area - much bigger than Trunks - was still warm.

"Huh." She looked back to her child, her eyes shining in the sunset. "Dada. Now I get it. Your daddy was here, wasn't he? Hey, what's this?" Reaching out, she plucked a long, stiff black hair from her son's shoulder. Tears in her eyes, she tried to imagine Vegeta laying in the floor with Trunks snuggled up against his chin, but the image wouldn't come. It was simply too ridiculous to even envision.

"You're really lucky, you know that?" She poked her son in the stomach. "You don't know what I'd give to be able to have switched places with you right about then." A light breeze that smelled of sweat and blood reached her nose, and she looked out the window just in time to see Vegeta slipping away into the growing shadows.

"Vegeta!" she cried, setting Trunks none-too-gently back on the floor and running to the window. "Vegeta, wait! Come back here! I have to explain about earlier!" But there was no reply. Bulma sighed and started to turn away when she heard another voice call up from the ground.

"Hey, you up there!"

Bulma looked down. Standing on the sidewalk beside Capsule Corporation was Ranessa in all her revealing splendor, waving merrily up at the blue-haired woman in the third-story window. Bulma hesitantly waved back, cursing her luck and life and anything she could think of off the top of her head.

"Come on down!" Ranessa was saying, pointing down the street. "I want to talk to ya!"

"I'm…I'm busy!" Bulma called back, not wanting to have anything to do with her.

"Like hell!" came the reply. "What else is there to do at eight o'clock at night besides hit the bar? Come on, it'll just be the two of us. I'm sober and I really don't like the feeling."

"I'll just bet you don't," Bulma muttered. "Sorry," she said louder, "I really don't feel like going anywhere tonight. I'm…uh…not feeling well." It was the truth, but not in the sense she had made it out to be. However, she was a bit curious to see what the woman would have to say when she wasn't stark-raving-drunk. On impulse, she said, "But how about you come in here for a while? I'd need to stay home with the baby anyway."

Ranessa seemed to consider, then, finally, gave a crisp nod.

"I'll be down in a minute. Head around to the back door; I'll meet you there." Slamming the window shut, she wrapped the black hair around her ring finger on a whim, tying the ends together with an expert twist of her thumb and forefinger. Taking a moment to marvel at the strength of the silky strand, she admired the shimmering black tress with an appreciative eye. A knock came at the back door and she quickly stuffed Trunks under her arm and hurried down the steps.

"Thanks for the invite," Bulma said upon opening the door, "but bars aren't really my thing."

"Somehow I didn't think so. You intellectual types are all the same." Ranessa glided across the threshold and settled herself at the glass kitchen table, motioning for Bulma to do the same. "Come on, sit down. I have a lot to talk to you about."

"Er, sure." Bulma sat down and pointedly placed Trunks on the table. "What is it?"

"My, what a cute baby you have!" Ranessa cooed, forgetting all about the previous direction of the conversation. Trunks eyed her sleepily, then popped his fist into his mouth. The blond girl giggled and reached out to poke the chubby side. The baby's hand snaked out and grabbed her finger with alarming speed. Ranessa's eyes went wide.

"Sweet God he's strong!" she whistled, attempting to wrench her hand away. Trunks held tight and ended up being dragged across the table to fall into her lap. He glanced up at her with an annoyed frown, then proceeded to chew on the edge of the table.

"Yeah, just like his father," Bulma replied, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'father'.

"That's odd. I didn't really think Yamcha was all that strong," the blond said pointedly, raising her head to meet her hostess' eyes.

"Oh, he's not," Bulma retorted, knowing full well what trap the girl was trying to set and somehow not caring that she was walking right into it. "Yamcha's about as weak as a chubby preschooler."

Ranessa gave a sparkling laugh. "Tell me about it. I almost beat him in arm wrestling when I was staggering drunk!" She calmed immediately, leaning across the babbling baby to look Bulma in the eye. "Now tell me. Who's the _real_ father?"

"Oh, I'm sure you don't know him," Bulma said idly, not liking the way the girl was trying to pry into her life. If she wanted to pester Yamcha, by all means she could chase him to the ends of the earth and the more power to her. But this was too much. "Moving on…"

"Alright then," the other girl conceded, though a satisfied smirk was plastered across her lips. "The other thing I wanted to ask you was where that ignoramus has gotten to."

Bulma shrugged. "I never know where that asshole is, and I truly don't care," she replied, motioning for Ranessa to hand back her son. "You might want to try down at the local whorehouse, though. Most likely that's where he is. You should really give up on him; he's hopeless."

"Oh, I know that," Ranessa said brightly. "To be honest, so am I. Speaking of which, do you have any booze? I really was planning on hitting the bar tonight…"

"No no, I won't keep you that long," Bulma said hastily. "Besides, I never have beer in the house. I'm…allergic."

"Right. And I'm the lead singer of the Spice Girls." Getting up, Ranessa sauntered over to the fridge and yanked it open and started to rummage through the shelves. Bulma sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes to heaven, trying to convince herself not to throw the metal napkin holder at the girl's empty head. Ranessa kicked the door shut and came out with bottle of tequila clamped in one hand and a can of Bud Light in the other. She shot an amused look at Bulma, who sniffed and fiddled with Trunks' hat.

"Must be left over from the last time Yamcha was here," she muttered.

"Uh huh." Popping open the can with an expert finger, Ranessa downed half the booze in one gulp, sighing contentedly through her nose.

"So why _are_ you attracted to him?" Bulma asked, curious despite herself. "I mean, he's so rude and uncaring…"

Ranessa had just started in on the bottle of tequila. She choked when Bulma spoke, slapping the bottle down on the tabletop to give her an incredulous look.

"Rude and uncaring? Hardly. He may be stupid, immature, and irresponsible, but he genuinely cares about what he loves."

"And how do you figure that?" Bulma demanded incredulously.

"Well, when you're drop-dead drunk, you tend to be more yourself than at any other time," Ranessa said easily. "And that's exactly what he was when he was talking about you."

Bulma had been getting up from the table to shoo the girl out the door. But she stopped at this, pausing in midstep. "What did he say?"

"Aw, I don't remember word for word. He was just saying how much he loved you and how you had up and married the wrong man. He would go to hell and back for you, y'know." Ranessa fiddled with her empty can, a smile passing across her porcelain features. "I figured, hell, if I could get him to love _me_ like that…"

Bulma sank back into her chair. Just when it had gotten so easy to hate Yamcha…

"Yeah, I came to ask you how you did it." Ranessa leaned forward, lacing her fingers and balancing her chin upon them. "Come on, tell me. I gotta know."

Before she could even consider replying, Mama Briefs rushed into the room, dragging Vegeta by the ear. The Saiyan Prince was thrown off balance by his injured leg and thus was unable to fight back. But at the sight of Bulma, he immediately steeled himself against the pain and twisted out of his mother-in-law's iron grip, a snarl upon his lips.

"You said you healed him!" Mrs. Briefs squawked, planting her hands on her hips.

"I…I thought I did…" Bulma mumbled, wincing at the sickening yellow-green crust that had only thickened since the morning.

"You thought you did. Look at him, honey! He's a mess!" Mama turned back to fuss over him, but he jerked away.

"Don't touch me, woman!" he grated, casting her a scathing look. "I've had much worse than an eye infection and a stupid wounded leg!"

"Don't be silly! We need to get some drops into that eye immediately!" Mrs. Briefs motioned for Bulma to tend to Vegeta. "Go rub some oil into that leg and make sure it's not broken, then for God's sake put drops into that eye before it falls out! I'll take Trunks and entertain your guest. I _do_ love visitors…Oh, I remember you!" she exclaimed with a happy smile, grabbing the baby and settling down at the table to talk.

Not knowing what else to do, Bulma shuffled forward to stand before Vegeta, still unable to meet his eyes. The prince snorted in disbelief and turned away. Her hand darted out to touch his in an almost pleading gesture.

"Please, Vegeta," she whispered, not caring that there were others in the room. "Let me help you. Please, just this once. Even your serving girls back home on Vejetaseii must have helped you soothe your wounds."

"We take care of ourselves, woman," he muttered, jerking his hand away. Bulma sighed and put up her hands in surrender, turning to retrieve Trunks. But Vegeta laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her from going any further. Startled, she turned to face him, only to find his eyes trained on the floor.

"Just this once," he grumbled. "I know nothing of Earthian diseases. Treat my injuries right this time, or you'll wish you'd never been born!" With that, he whirled on his good leg and clomped shakily down the hall.

"That him?" Ranessa asked, pointing after him with the mouth of her tequila bottle.

Bulma blushed and nodded, still amazed at what had just happened.

The blond girl nodded approvingly. "Cool. I thought so; I saw him fly by earlier, and I thought you guys must've got into some kinda fight. And the kid has his daddy's eyes," she added, grinning at Trunks, who burped in response.

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "No he doesn't. He has blue eyes, like me. His dad has black."

"Not the color! I'm talking about the look. They both have this determined look that implies great power…and great weakness." She took another sip of the alcohol. The beginnings of a drunken flush were already apparent on her pallid skin.

"Great…weakness?" Bulma ventured, casting a worried glance at her tiny son.

Ranessa hiccupped and nodded. "Yee….uup."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Why am I listening to you? You're a freaking drunk." Disgusted with herself and Ranessa, she headed down the hall after Vegeta.

She came upon him in her bedroom. He was lounging back on the bed, idly picking at the repulsive yellow scum that decorated his eye. Upon her entrance, he sat up, rotating his head back and forth on his neck.

"About time," he growled. "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost in your own house."

"It was only a few extra seconds, Vegeta!" Bulma said, exasperated despite her guilt.

"Hmph. Just get started. What should I do?"

Bulma sat down beside him. "Put your leg on my lap. I'm going to have to make sure it's not broken. If it's not, which I don't think it is, I'll rub some of this palm oil into it to ease the soreness."

Shrugging, Vegeta hefted his leg and swung it over her lap. Bulma peeled back the layer of skintight polyester and suppressed a gasp when she saw the condition of the skin. It was black, brown, and green from the knee down, creating what looked like a preschooler's attempt at camouflage. Various cuts had healed to the fabric, and when she had ripped it away, they had reopened and were now bleeding freely. Setting her mouth in a grim line, she rubbed the oil between her palms and began to knead her fingers up and down his leg.

Vegeta's eye twitched slightly as she pressed her fingers into his bruises, and he let out a growl of pain as she pushed against a bit of bruised bone. "Watch it, woman!" he roared.

"I have to do this, alright!" she growled back. "If I don't, it'll just get worse."

"My body could heal this over the course of three days without the pain!"

"Oh sure, until you started to walk!" Bulma returned, digging her knuckles hard into his sore calf muscle. Vegeta cried out more in agitation than pain, but his back ached slightly against the miniscule twinge. Bulma's breath caught in her throat as she watched his powerful muscles coil and tense. With a familiar heat rising to her cheeks, she ducked over his leg and set to work rubbing the oil into the injured limb. Despite the numerous cuts and bruises, the skin was completely smooth. Unlike the men of earth, they were completely hairless and wonderfully shaped with rippling muscles flowing beneath the flawless skin. Raw power coursed beneath her fingers, setting them tingling with the barely contained energy. She rubbed harder, sensing the muscle starting to loosen from its knot.

Vegeta watched her intently, somehow unable to take his eyes from her hunched form. When she was done, she sat up straight and stretched. Her body rippled beneath her form-fitting outfit, and the prince found himself licking his lips despite himself.

"Alright, that's done. Nothing was broken. Now I can get that disgusting eye of yours…"

"Don't you dare call me disgusting!" Vegeta snarled.

She rolled her eyes. "What, you don't think that gross yellow crap in your eye is disgusting?" she challenged, reaching into the medical bag to retrieve a bottle of ocular disinfectant.

He muttered something unintelligible, and she smiled, knowing she had won at least one small battle. "Now hold still. I'm going to have to peel that stuff off before I can treat it, and I don't want to poke you with my nails."

"Then cut them off!"

"Just shut up, okay?" she snapped. "I'm trying to help you, for the love of God!" Taking out a medical toilette, she gingerly began to dab at the edge of the repulsive mass. "Man, I don't know how you Saiyans do it. Anything like this would drive me absolutely insane!"

"We manage," he answered shortly.

"Obviously." Having separated the crust from the skin, she began to peel it away. Vegeta stiffened and clenched his fists as the natural eye patch finally fell away, revealing a severely swollen eye. "Yuck," she commented, wrinkling her nose. She tossed the crust into the garbage can; it landed with a sickening thud.

"Are you done yet?"

"Hold your horses! Lay back, I need to put some drops in it. They'll be cold and probably sting, but I'm sure you'll manage," she said sarcastically, repeating what he had said not moments before.

Vegeta eyed the bottle warily. "Saiyan eyes are especially sensitive," he warned. "Making a mistake would mean your life!"

"I'll be careful, dammit!" Bulma said, aggravated at his constant complaints. Pushing him back on the bed she pried the swollen eye open and dripped a single drop into its red depths.

The prince howled in pain, bucking against her and throwing her down on top of him. He rolled her over, pinning her underneath him.

"How dare you!" he hissed.

Bulma felt him pressed up against her in the most tantalizing ways. Despite the fury on his face, she smiled faintly up at him. "I need to get one more in there," she said somewhat breathlessly. Pushing up with her hips, she startled him into flopping back over onto his back, staring at her in flushed amazement. Prying his eye open once more, she squirted the second drop under his lid.

"There," she murmured, staring down into his good eye. She realized vaguely that she was straddling him and that he felt extremely warm beneath her legs. Leaning down slowly, she pressed her lips against his with shaky precision, wondering at the smooth texture of the mouth that spoke nothing but curses. She felt his hands unwittingly rise up to rest on her waist, and the raw power of his body coursed through her soul as he kissed her back.

"You are either extremely brave," he whispered, "or extremely stupid. To tempt a Saiyan twice is to play a dangerous game with fate. But no matter; you know you cannot escape now."

"Nor would I want to." A sexy smirk touched her lips. "I've told you before; you don't scare me, Vegeta," she breathed, drawing her hands up to cup his cheeks. "I know you're dangerous. You could rip me in two with one hand. But the thing is, you won't." Pressing ever closer, she kissed his lips with tender grace. She felt him respond once more, this time with more force as he gently rolled her over onto her side.

"This doesn't mean anything," he murmured against her skin. "If we do this, nothing will change between us."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that," she answered. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips with avid passion. "But tonight will be enough for now. I can hold on until the next moment of weakness."

"Weakness," he repeated softly, with only a hint of sarcasm. "Yes, of course. Until then…"

She smiled, caressing his face with her left hand. When it passed his good eye, he frowned and grabbed it, looking curiously at her 'ring'. "What's this?" he asked.

"Oh. That. Um…" she flushed a deep red, not wanting to admit that she had tied one of his hairs around her finger. It would seem so weird…! "Nothing. Just something I picked up in town today."

"You didn't go out," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her ring finger, knowing full well what she had done and chuckling inwardly at the thought. Moments like this were rare, for a Saiyan almost never merged with another outside of necessity. But with this came a sense of freedom, a sense of being completely right…

A sense of something he had never felt before…

Shuddering away this ominous thought, Vegeta turned his eyes inward and allowed his body to respond on its own as he crushed her beneath his alluring weight. He let his thoughts dwindle into nothingness as the almost savage energy of their union enveloped them both.

And all the while he was only dimly aware of the single tear trickling down her cheek.


	6. How it Should Be and What it Is

(A/N: Here's chapter six. 0.- I got really mushy all of a sudden. rolls eyes I don't think it's out of character, but if it is, oh well. I thought it was cute ;p. And I know what fic I'm going to be doing next. It's gonna be called 'The Last of the Saiyans', featuring mirai Trunks (the one who came back to warn the Z guys about the androids, in case anyone out there has been living under a rock) and the future that never was. It's a continuation of sorts. After Trunks goes back and defeats the androids and Cell, he becomes extremely famous - but grudgingly. All he wants is to settle down and forget it ever happened. Also, he wants to document (being the dork he is) the history of the Saiyans, so that when he is gone and the race is dead, there will at least be a memory of the fearsome warriors. So one day he senses a power level that is greater than any he had felt in years, and he goes to investigate. He finds this girl and she runs from him, and he follows her home. Her parents say she is sort of strange and that he should stay away before shutting him out of the house. He vows to come back and investigate later. But he meets up with a nasty surprise when he gets home…

So yeah, basically it's going to be a love story between mirai Trunks and this mystery girl who somehow has a connection to the Saiyan race. I thought it would be original, but I could be wrong. Tell me what you think.

Oh yeah, and enjoy the chapter. snicker snicker I thought it was funny…)

Halfway through the night, Bulma awoke to find that her prince was gone. Startled into wakefulness by his sudden absence, she slipped hastily into her robe and pulled back the gossamer red bed curtains to look for him. She didn't have to look far - the prince was perched on the windowsill, outlined by the full silver moon. His black hair shimmered faintly in the ghostly light as he turned to face her.

"The full moon," he said quietly, as if that explained everything. Folding his arms across his bare chest, he turned back to stare once more into the night.

"I see that," Bulma replied with a frown. Not knowing what else to do, she wrapped her silk robe tighter around her lithe body and shivered.

Vegeta shot her an irritated glance, as if her miniscule movement had somehow infringed upon the majesty of the moon. "Well, don't just stand there, woman!" he growled, holding out an impatient hand to her. "Come over here."

Nodding jerkily, she padded across the carpet to where he sat in the window, half expecting him to take her into his arms. When he did not, she let out a sigh of disappointment and leaned against the opposite pane.

"Right there," he murmured, pointing to a hole in the sky that was just left of the moon. "That's where it should be."

"Vejitaseii?" she asked, squinting in the direction he indicated.

"What else?" he snorted. "But yes, it should be right there, just beyond the Earthen moon."

"I see," she replied, not knowing what else to say. Silence fell over them as Vegeta continued to stare blankly out the window while Bulma wondered idly how she could coerce him back into bed. She had never seen him so…thoughtful. It was almost scary to see such a deep look on the proud, stoic face. Feeling the early hours tickle at the back of her throat, she stifled a yawn.

Vegeta caught it out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "You can go back to bed if you want, woman. I, however, am staying here. The full moon holds fond memories for me, and I would like to be left to myself to enjoy them"

The girl shot him a sidelong look. "I thought you told me a Saiyan cherishes nothing," she pointed out.

He raised a black eyebrow. "I never said I 'cherished' them. Fond memories for me would probably be considered barbaric slaughter to you humans. As you probably learned with Kakarot, a Saiyan transforms at the sight of the full moon. With these powerful Lutz Waves, we become the most powerful beings in the universe!"

"Yeah, I know all about that," she said with a shudder. "Goku used to transform when he was a kid. In fact, he did it so much and caused so much pain that he decided to cut off his tail once and for all."

Vegeta snorted derisively. "Kakarot is a fool. A stupid, sentimental fool." Raising his head, he gazed longingly up at the shimmering orb. "I would give anything to have my tail back," he murmured. "Life among the humans would be so much easier…"

Wincing at the evil smile that twitched his lips, Bulma pushed herself away from the window and started back for the bed. "So sorry you think of us that way," she grumbled, pushing back the curtains. "Life with us weaklings must be so difficult for you without being able to blow us up and pound your fuzzy chests." Sighing, she threw herself down on the mattress and pulled the pillow up over her head.

"Yes," he whispered, not taking his eyes from the moon. "Then it would be easier to remember that I'm not one of you."

Bulma sat up abruptly. "What was that?" she asked, hardly believing her ears. "Vegeta, what did you say?"

The prince didn't answer. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of the sill and made as if to leave.

"Vegeta, wait!" Throwing her pillow to the floor, she hurried back over to the window, reaching out a hand to catch him if he should try to fly away. But he had already slipped out into the night. "Vegeta!" she called after him, a catch in her voice. She stuck her head out the window and looked desperately back and forth, hoping to at least detain an image of his retreating form. "Take me with you," she murmured.

"Just this once."

Bulma jumped about three feet in the air as the shadowed silhouette floated out of the darkness. The Saiyan's arms were folded across his chest, and his heavy, muscular body hovered on the night wind easily as a feather. Noting her surprise, a smirk touched his thin lips.

"Don't get used to it, woman. I'm in a good mood tonight, but that can certainly change!" He gestured her near with an unusually bare hand. The gloves had been left on the floor where they had been carelessly thrown a short time ago. "Well, what are you waiting for!" he demanded when she hesitated. "I can promise you that you will never receive this opportunity again." The black eyes flashed dangerously, and she knew he meant it.

"J-just one second," she stammered. "I have to get something warmer on…"

"Don't be ridiculous!" he snarled, grabbing her arm and yanking her out the window. Letting out a shrill shriek, she clutched at him with fevered hands, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Vegeta chuckled softly, the irritation melting from his eyes as he watched her cuddle closer to him. The moon embraced them both with its silver clothed arms, smiling as the Saiyan Prince rested his chin upon her head.

"Yes," he whispered, glancing up at the silver globe as if sharing a private joke. "Just this once." Rising slowly into the air in a steady upward spiral, he buried his face in her gossamer locks, breathing deeply as he waited for her to open her eyes.

After a few minutes of simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to him, Bulma finally tore her head away from his chest far enough to look around. The lights of West City dwindled beneath her just as the cliffs had done a few days earlier. The clouds swirled by once again, but instead of racing her to the heavens, they simply sat back and gazed at her with undisguised envy. Bulma smiled down at them, suppressing the urge to throw her head back and laugh for all she was worth.

"Vegeta, this is amazing," she whispered, shivering slightly as the night air swirled around her bare ankles. Laying her head back upon his chest, she slipped her arms around his waist and tried to absorb his warmth. The prince gazed out over the horizon, eyes focused on something far away. Bulma noticed his distraction and glanced up at him curiously.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked dreamily.

"Do you still want to know what it's like to fly like a Saiyan?" he asked gruffly, as if embarrassed to even bring up the very concept.

"Uh…" she flicked her eyes over the ground far below her and swallowed hard. "Not like before, but it would be neat. I'm kind of cold, though. Can we stay like this…just a little longer?"

He smirked. "A pointless request. There is no need." Lifting his eyes to heaven, he let out a short grunt as his eyes turned startling green. They both seemed to catch on fire, and refreshing warmth flowed across her body, making her gasp in delight. Turning to look over her shoulder, she imagined her own hair was blond, that her blue eyes were green, that she was soaring through the sky at the speed of sound… She started when she felt Vegeta's arms encircle her waist as if they were securing a rope. Casting him a curious look, she was surprised to find that the 'imaginary' rope was really a cord of energy.

"I'm letting go now," Vegeta declared, letting her slip through his arms.

"WHAT? VEGETANOWAITASECOND--" Bulma started to fall again, flailing her arms and trying desperately to keep her robe from flying up in her face. But after a short time the energy cable pulled taught, and she dangled about fifteen feet beneath the Saiyan Prince. The chords flickered and disappeared, and she was about to panic when his silky voice floated down to her from above.

"It's still there," Vegeta said, amused at her reaction. "But it will hardly feel like you're flying if you see you're attached to something, idiot. Now on the count of three, I'm going to take off. One…"

Bulma's eyes went wide. "Wait not yet! I want to get used to this first--"

"Two."

"VEGETA!"

"Three!" Coiling his powerful muscles, Vegeta shot ahead into the air, pulling Bulma along behind him at a speed rivaling that of light. Bulma shrieked, but the sound was lost in the wind that rushed past her at sonic speed. But then they broke through the layer of cloud and the city laid itself bare at her feet. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered down upon the sparkling splendor.

"Amazing," she whispered. On sudden impulse, she touched her fingertips to the energy rope that encircled her waist. A rush of heat enveloped her body, so hot it was almost searing but somehow not painful. It pulsed with the regularity of a heartbeat - Vegeta's heartbeat. She cast a look at the Saiyan Prince, who shot on ahead, letting a sigh that was lost to the wind pass her open lips.

"Just this once, huh?" She glanced up at the moon that hung above her in all its shining glory. "Is this because of the full moon, I wonder? Last time he spent the night with me, it was the night of the full moon." Arching her eyebrows, she explored this new possibility. "Since his tail is gone, does it make him…" Her blue eyes trained themselves on his back, watching his hair whip in waves out behind him.

_Does it make him more human?_

Almost as if he had somehow heard her soft remark, Vegeta stopped abruptly, using the energy rope to pull her back to him. "That's enough," he said brusquely, dispersing the energy ropes with a wave of his hand. Hoisting her onto his back, he turned homeward and shot off.

"Vegeta," Bulma said into his ear, wondering if he had somehow heard her talking to herself. He grunted in reply. Biting her lip against a smile, she nuzzled his neck. "Thank you."

"Feh. Don't expect this to ever happen again," he retorted, flying faster to quell the flush rising on his cheeks. "I just felt generous tonight. And remember, after the brat is grown…"

"I know. You'll be gone." Pushing this to the back of her mind, she rested her head between his mighty shoulder blades and heaved a heavy sigh. "Don't worry, I won't ever forget that."

He snorted. "Counting the minutes, huh? That makes two of us."

The lump returned, but she managed to smile around it. "Sure," she said softly, fingering his fighting suit. "Sure."

When they arrived back at the house, the moon was beginning to wane, balancing precariously on the western horizon. Already the line of mountains opposite it were beginning to lighten, though dawn was still a few hours away. Vegeta pushed open her window and flew her gently inside, depositing her on her bed.

"Remember," he murmured, pulling the covers awkwardly up around her chin, "this was the only time."

"I know that," she muttered back. "You've already said that about six times."

"Don't talk to me like that!" he snarled. Turning on his heel, he headed back for the window.

"You're not staying then?" she ventured, rising up on one elbow.

He snorted. "You act as if I have nothing better to do than cater to your whims. As it were, I am going to train up in the mountains. Though what concern that is of yours I have no idea," he added, sarcastic attitude starting to return in full.

Bulma sighed, watching the wall go back up and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Right." He turned back to the window and prepared to exit. As he was about to launch himself into the dawn, she called after him one last time. "Vegeta," she murmured, "I'm sorry."

The prince cast a look over his shoulder, knowing exactly what she meant and sneering at the unpleasant memory that reeked of a certain man by the name of Yamcha. "You should be," he replied. Then, without another word, he was gone.

"I love you," she whispered after him, then rolled over and hid her face from the growing light, not wanting to believe that the magical night was over.

Two weeks slipped by during which she saw hide nor hair of Vegeta. She went to the summoning, gawked at the immense size of the Eternal Dragon (as always), saw her friends for a brief hour, then came home and hadn't left since. There was too much to do; the gravity room was in shambles, Trunks seemed to cry just about every five minutes, and she had received an order from some bigshot aristobrat from Britain or whatnot for some sort of robot. She got hardly any sleep with everything weighing down upon her, and the exhaustion was beginning to show. Dark circles constantly ringed her eyes, and she found herself nodding off over her computer. Her normally immaculate hair was flat and disheveled, giving her the appearance, coincidentally, of a mad scientist. Coffee quickly became her best friend as she tackled the workload that only seemed doubled by the emptiness in her heart.

Now, however, she had pushed the Saiyan Prince to the back of her mind as she bent over a stack of papers detailing the mechanics of the robot she was supposed to build. In one hand she held tight to the handle of her coffee mug, and in the other she clutched a pencil, which was scratching ceaselessly across the numerous equations she felt obliged to correct.

"Don't these idiots know anything about physics?" she muttered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "If I made it how they wanted me to, it would end up blowing up in their faces!"

Just as she was about to make the final correction, the doorbell rang, startling her to the point where she slopped hot coffee all down her front. "Great," she muttered. Looking around, she hoped that one of her parents would hear the bell and go to answer the door. But when all remained quiet, she sighed, knowing she should have known better than to think her father would rip himself away from whatever he was doing just to greet a visitor. "Don't everybody get up at once!" Not even bothering to clean herself up, she marched down the hall and opened the door.

A man who looked no older than eighteen stood on the stoop, head cocked to the side as he looked her up and down with startling blue eyes. Unruly auburn hair curled around his perfectly sculpted face and fell in waves upon his leather-jacketed shoulders. Adorned with zippers and spikes, he looked like something out of a rock band.

"Thanks, but I'm not in the mood for charities today," she growled sarcastically, preparing to shut the door in his face.

"I'm not from a charity," he said in a low, slightly British voice, catching the door before it shut. "My name is Gerard Andrews the Fourth, but I prefer 'Andy' to the formalities. I'm here to lend a hand to Ms. Bulma Briefs on building my machine." He flashed her a sexy smirk that didn't touch his eyes, which remained cold and calculating. "And I'm assuming that is you?"

Bulma blinked a few times before finally processing his words in her tired mind. "Yeah, that's me," she replied, somewhat sheepish, somewhat annoyed. "But I don't need any help, thanks. I'll run it over to your hotel when I'm done, assuming of course that you didn't fly almost eight hours to see me in Japan. Good day."

"I'm afraid that is unnecessary," he said smoothly, pulling the door open wider. "I must insist that I help with the construction. Some parts of the plans were a little…botched, if you will. I'd like to take a look at them and make some corrections."

"Already done," Bulma replied shortly, her scowl oddly resembling the one Vegeta wore so often. "I caught the mistakes when I was going through the plans."

Andy looked impressed. Pushing his hair behind his ear, he shot her a winning smile. "I should've known I would never be able to make a mistake the great Bulma Briefs couldn't fix," he laughed with a slight bow. Bulma noticed with a slight wrinkle of her nose that his ear was pierced with a golden hoop. He bowed low. "Then I would ask to be taken under the tutelage of such an ingenious woman."

Bulma rolled her eyes, but a faint blush touched her cheeks nonetheless. "Well, I guess I can show you a few things," she said, puffing up with pride. "But only a few. Come on in; I'm just going over the plans right now, but I'll be ready to start construction within the next half hour, if you're willing to wait that long."

"I have all the time in the world," he replied, rubbing his hands together. Stepping across the threshold, he followed her down the hall and into the kitchen.

"Sorry I had to draw all over your plans," she said idly, handing over the papers for his perusal. Leaning against the table with a satisfied smirk, she scooped up her mug and took a long draught of the swirling black liquid.

"No no, not at all. I'm actually quite intrigued with your work." He flipped the page and studied a long set of equations that sprawled haphazardly across the document. "But I am curious as to why you have changed the design of the interior mechanism." Glancing up with his sapphire eyes glinting in the sunlight, he pointed to a drawing that had been scratched out and replaced.

Bulma leaned over the paper and scanned the diagram with expert eyes. "Oh that. Yeah, I had to change it. I had no choice! The way you had it set up, it would have exploded the moment you touched it."

"But that was the point," he said smoothly, tapping a slender finger on the product's name. "It's a training device, used for delicate ki training."

The girl blinked over her coffee, as if not comprehending what he was saying.

Andy raised an eyebrow. "I thought you of all people would know what ki was."

She shook her head violently, sending waves of messy blue hair cascading around her head. "Of course I know what ki is! But why would a bigshot business guru like you want a ki device?"

"Oh, I don't hang around the business all the time," he said with a smirk. "I dabble in many different fields, one of my favorites being good old Tae Kwon Do." He made a playful karate chop in the air.

"Er…oh. Okay then," she mumbled reaching for the papers. "Then I guess everything is ready to go…" Raising the mug to her lips, she growled when she discovered it empty. "Damn," she muttered. "Out of coffee."

Andy shot her a concerned look. "You look tired," he commented.

"No really," she snapped back, ready to punch anything that moved until her cup magically refilled.

"You should really get some rest. If you show me to the lab, I'll start working on the robot…"

"No, I'd actually prefer if you would come back later," Bulma returned, tucking the pages of paperwork under her arm. "You'll excuse my caution, but we've only just met."

With a slight nod, he took a step back. "I understand completely, madam," he said genially. "But if I may ask a question?"

"What!" she demanded, starting to get more than a little annoyed at his intrusive nature.

"That there." He nodded toward her left hand, and she self-consciously shoved it behind her back. "Wishful thinking, or just some new Japanese fashion?"

"Don't be stupid!" she snarled, patience finally snapping in two. "It's…something I picked up the other day. You know, just something…something different."

"Ah. I see."

At that moment, the front door slammed shut and the sound of booted feet walking with stealthy grace echoed toward the kitchen. Bulma's heart leapt into her throat as she hastily excused herself and ran down the hall. Vegeta sauntered across the tile with a leather training jacket slung over one shoulder. Energy crackled around him in almost tangible waves, creating the sensation of an invisible vortex. As his wife jogged down the hall to meet him, the corner of his mouth twitched up into a smirk as he strode steadily toward her.

"Oh Vegeta, I'm so glad you're home!" she cried, stopping about ten feet away from him and regarding him with an overjoyed smile. He didn't reply, just kept walking at a leisurely pace, gradually closing the distance between them. Bulma's heart finally dropped down from her throat and began to run a stationary race as her eyes slid over his freshly toned muscles with silent delight.

But instead of taking her into his arms, Vegeta simply disappeared in front of her and re-emerged a few feet behind her, moving too fast for the eye to see. Confused, she looked over her shoulder, watching him retreat down the hall.

"Vegeta, where are you going?" Turning around, she trotted after him, wanting nothing more than a hug though she knew she wouldn't get it. Vegeta stopped, but did not look back at her.

"I'm looking for the brat," he answered curtly, shrugging into the sleeves of his jacket. "The training starts today."

Bulma stared in disbelief. "What!" she gasped. "Vegeta, he's only a month old! He can't train--!"

"Still your tongue, woman, or I will cut it out," he said icily. "The child should have begun training a week ago, and if it weren't for my own outing I would have started then. Now where is he! I should not have to explain myself like this!"

Swallowing hard, Bulma stood her ground, staring him defiantly in the eye. "He's not going," she said fiercely, "and you're not going to take him."

"Do you have a death wish , girl!" Vegeta demanded, hands clenching into fists.

"No, and neither does Trunks!"

Vegeta was about to issue a biting reply when someone cleared his throat behind them. Andy walked lightly down the hall, running a hand idly through his red hair. "I was wondering, Ms. Bulma," he asked lightly, cool blue eyes running shrewdly across Vegeta's muscled form, "if I might be able to board at your humble home. It would be no more than a week, mind you, and I would pay rent. Usage of your lab would be most wondrous, and your tutelage would prove most educational."

"Tch. Go find your own quarters," Vegeta snarled, energy pulsing to the tip of his hand - a spectacle Andy watched with interest. But before the energy bomb could take shape, Bulma quickly stepped forward and placed a restraining hand on Vegeta's wrist.

"I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a problem," she interrupted, shooting Vegeta a smug glance. "And since it is _my _house, you can disregard anything this guy says." Vegeta jerked his arm away, never taking his eyes from those of the red-headed aristocrat, who gave a slight bow.

"My sincerest gratitude is yours," he murmured, meeting the gaze of the Saiyan Prince head on without a twitch. "This should prove…most interesting."

Bulma smiled. "Of course. Anything for a client," she said, emphasizing the last word and giving Vegeta a stern glance. The prince didn't catch it; he was too intent on the cold sapphire eyes. Rolling her own eyes, Bulma shook her head and pointed down the hall. "Your room is up the stairs, down the hall, the last room on the left. I'm guessing you have your stuff with you?"

"It's in the limo," he replied with a smile. "I'll retrieve it right away." With that, he turned and disappeared out the front door.

The moment he was out of sight, Vegeta whirled on Bulma, glaring down at her with a scathing stare. "You would do well to trust my decisions, idiot," he hissed, teeth clicking maliciously. "That man is not what he seems."

"Then what is he?" she challenged, planting her hands on her hips. "An alien? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Gerard Andrew the Fourth has been in the artificial intelligence agency since I was a little girl; and we've had our fair share of UFO's and -what do you know! - we're still breathing."

"Though how long some of us will remain as such is open for debate," he shot back. Returning his gaze to the door, he crossed his arms and started toward the kitchen. "The whelp's training will have to wait. Not because you said so - I could care less about that - but because a more serious problem has arisen by means of your stupidity." When he was about to round the corner, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder with a leering scowl. "And take that ridiculous 'ring' off your finger. It's degrading." With that, he faded into the shadows of the living room and was gone.

Sighing heavily, Bulma clutched her left hand to her heart. The silken hair had almost seemed to conform to her finger over the last few weeks, the oil from the machinery polishing and coating it until it had a sort of glossy sheen. Wrapping around her finger at least six times, it had the appearance of a shining spiral of the purest onyx, and it still held the warmth they had shared under the light of the full moon.

"Bulma, you're such a sentimental old fool," she murmured, stroking the 'ring' with a loving fingertip. "Maybe I really should take this off…Nah." Smiling to herself, she decided to take Andy's advice and hit the hay, turning her steps down the hall to her room that was so often empty. She entered and closed the door behind her, kicking off her tennis shoes and shrugging out of her coffee-stained white lab coat. Sighing heavily, she walked over to the bed, smiling at her baby boy who lay sprawled on the mattress.

"Right where I left you," she murmured, smoothing her baby's silky hair. Sinking to her knees, she crossed her arms on the edge of the bed and rested her chin upon them with a tired grin. Trunks stirred ever so slightly, then turned his tiny head toward her and opened his eyes. Seeing his mother kneeling before him, he let out a shriek of delight and reached out a little hand.

Bulma giggled and held out her finger, letting the child wrap his chubby palm around it and pull it into his mouth, chewing happily. "You're such a little stinker!" she exclaimed, laughing outright. Climbing into bed, she wrapped her arms around the little boy, cuddling him close. "Oh, Trunks, I love you so much," she whispered, nuzzling his diminutive nose. The baby babbled aimlessly, closing a fist in her disheveled hair. Too tired to even attempt to dislodge it, she yawned and closed her eyes, sinking slowly into an abyss that strangely echoed with Vegeta's ominous prediction.

_That man's not what he seems…_

"Yeah, right," she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. She felt herself losing consciousness at last, lulled to sleep by clatter of technology and the endless whir of electric tools.


	7. Siberia

(A/N: Okay, I randomly got a complaint on Bulma's character, and I feel the need (though I don't know why) to explain myself once again. Did I not claim creative license? -rolls eyes- I was trying to portray Bulma's internal struggle, and I've never seen her be THAT mean to Vegeta. O.o Maybe I'm just forgetting about Z (I've only watched GT lately), but I thought I was getting her right. -shrugs- Oh well. To each his own, I guess. Can't please everybody.

As for the abrupt scene changes, I hadn't realized that when I put stars under each of them, they disappeared when I posted them on FF. I'll try to put little markers that look like this ) ( …) ( in between sections. Happy reading, R&R.)

Bulma woke what seemed like minutes later, suddenly aware that Trunks was no longer tucked under her arm. When she didn't find him anywhere in the room, she began to panic. "Trunks!" she yelled, opening the door and sprinting down the hall to the baby's room. She ran into the huge playroom, frantically looking from playpen to playpen and cursing under her breath. The baby wasn't there.

"Shit! Trunks, where are you!" Whirling around, she tore off back down the hall to check with her parents. She skidded into the kitchen on socked feet, calling for her parents at the top of her lungs. A note on the table caught her eye. Rushing over, she snatched the note from the glass surface and quickly skimmed it.

_Bulma,_

Your Father and I decided to go out for a while. We were going to tell you, but you were sleeping so peacefully! If you need us, Daddy has his cell phone.

Make sure you feed Trunks! I gave him all the bottles left in the fridge and put him back with you. (You've been out for a few days, y'know!) Warm milk will do him good.

Love,

Mama

PS: That Andy is the sweetest thing! I'm glad you invited him to stay.

"Mother!" she grated, crumpling the note between furious hands. "If I was out that long, you should have called Krillin or something! Trunks won't sleep THAT long! Now I don't know where he is. For all I know, he might have fallen out a window, or got outside and hit by a truck, or choked on some little part I had lying around…"

_Or he might have fallen down the laundry chute or stepped on or shut in the refrigerator…_

Not really knowing why she was acting on such a ludicrous thought, she dashed for the fridge and opened the door, sighing heavily in relief when she discovered it empty of everything but milk.

"If you were looking for the brat, what in all the seven hells possessed you to search the food storage closet!"

Bulma spun around to find an extremely exhausted Vegeta standing in the doorway, Trunks tucked under one arm like a football. The baby hung nearly upside down, babbling away and dribbling happily on his father's shoe. The prince eyed him with disgust, administering a quick shake and pulling him up by the ankle to hold him out to Bulma. "Take it; I don't want it," he growled, wiping the top of his boot on the rug.

"Vegeta! Don't hold him like that! For the love of God, he's only six weeks old!" Tearing across the room, she yanked Trunks as gently as she could from Vegeta's iron grasp. "I don't believe you!" she scolded, glaring up into his onyx eyes. "How can you hold your own little son - BY HIS ANKLE!"

"Oh, would you rather me grab him by his hair?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "What little of it he actually has, that is."

Trunks began to wail, and Bulma comfortingly bounced him on her hip. "It's okay, Trunks. Mommy won't let Daddy hurt you anymore." The girl glared at her husband through a tangle of blue hair. "Can't you ever even _try_ to be nice?"

"I am being nice! You're still alive, are you not?" Turning on his heel, Vegeta stalked out of the room, nearly bowling over Andy as he walked through the door.

"Excuse _me,_" Andy muttered with a mock bow. Rolling his eyes, he turned to Bulma. "I was hoping you'd be up. I completed the basic design, and I was wondering if you would come and check it out for me."

"How long was I out?" she asked, glaring daggers after her idiot of a husband. Trunks cried harder, reaching a chubby arm toward the swinging door.

"I'd say about 52 hours," he replied, bending down to make goofy faces at the child. "And I think this little guy wants his daddy."

Bulma snorted. "Yeah, right. Vegeta just picked him up by his ankle and nearly threw him at me. I doubt he wants to go through that again."

Andy shrugged, backing away from a spit bubble Trunks was attempting to pop in his face. "Some kids consider things like that to be fun," he replied, settling back on his haunches. "Anyway, would you consider coming with me now? I really do require an expert opinion."

"Yeah, sure. But have you implanted the sensor yet? I have to take Trunks with me, and I don't want any kind of explosion in the lab."

"Nah. That comes last." Twisting to his feet with catlike grace, Andy offered her his arm. "May I?" he asked with a grin.

Bulma rolled her eyes, but laughed despite herself. "Yeah, sure, why not?" Taking his arm, she settled Trunks against her shoulder and let the younger man lead her down the hall. Everything was quiet except for the sound of their feet padding across the floor, interrupted occasionally by a low gibber from the baby. Bulma found herself imagining she was walking across the palace of the Saiyan planet arm in arm with the prince as he led her down the pristine onyx halls…

"That Vegeta guy," Andy said suddenly, after a few minutes of walking in silence. "He doesn't seem to be very good to you. What's his problem, if you don't mind my asking?"

The girl shook her head quickly to clear away the dreamy image. "Vegeta doesn't have problems; he IS a problem," she retorted, blowing a raspberry against her little son's cheek. "He's just not much of a touchy-feely guy, that's all."

"Right, and I'm a horse's ass," he returned lightheartedly.

"Are you, now?" Bulma returned, shooting him a smirk. "I could have sworn you were a donkey's."

"Watch it, lady!" Andy laughed, giving her arm a good natured squeeze. "I was just concerned that you weren't as happy as you could be."

She raised a feathery eyebrow. "And why would you say that?"

"Eh, I'm sure you've heard this a thousand times before, but a girl like you deserves someone who will cherish her. You know, baby her and help her in any way he can. That's what I would do."

_Aw, shit, not another one._ "Andy, you're right when you say I've heard that a thousand times. Everyone I know seems to be telling me that; but let me tell you, there's not a one of them who's been able to convince me." Idly bringer her fingers to her lips, she recalled his warmth as he had softly kissed her in the moonlight. "The moments are few, true - but that just makes them all the more special." She fingered the gossamer hair around her finger, a faraway look crossing her face. "When he does decide to hold me," she murmured, "it's like something out of a fairy tale."

"You're daft, woman," he chuckled. Bulma thought she noted a hint of…was it jealousy? She cast him a curious glance, but the moment had passed and he had resumed staring straight ahead. Sighing, she let the notion slide.

Opening the heavy metal door, the two descended to the lab. Bulma gently removed her hand from the crook of his arm and flicked the light switch. The huge spotlights flooded the enormous room, revealing a machine in the earliest stages of development standing on a table.

"Here it is!" Andy said proudly, jogging across the room to stand proudly beside his invention. Bulma glided over to him, setting Trunks in a nearby playpen placed just for the occasion and inspecting his work. She noticed that he would cast her furtive glances, hoping to catch her eye. Pretending she hadn't noticed, she traced the metal seam with a slender finger.

"Very nice," she said, more than a little impressed. "I don't see anything wrong with it. You even installed the central computer!"

His chest swelled with pride. "Thank you I'm sure. It took me forever to get it right. Say, will you help me begin the casing? I'm really bad at welding."

"Sure, whatever. God knows I got enough sleep to last me a lifetime."

"Cool." Andy walked over to the counter and pulled open the tool drawer. Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced over his shoulder and called, "Say, mind if I play some music? I only have that American stuff, but it's pretty damn good."

She shrugged. "I won't understand it, but I really don't have a problem with it if it's not too loud."

The following hour was spent in quiet occupation as both scientists worked separately on different parts of the machine. Andy sang softly along with the foreign words, and Bulma wondered at how perfectly his silky voice fit into the harmony of the music. At times she would even find herself swaying along to the beat, tapping her finger in time as she waited for one machine or another to slowly heat up. This continued for quite some time after, and Bulma was beginning to daydream when a particular song caught her ear. She couldn't understand what it was saying, but something about the tone and the melody constricted her heart with an iron fist. Turning to Andy, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"What's this song about?" she asked softly, as if her voice would somehow ruin the spell the song had cast upon the room.

Andy leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his chin with his eraser. "Funny you should ask about this one," he replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "It's actually the one that most describes me. I can't really describe it, but I can translate a few of the key parts for you."

"Go ahead."

The young man took a few moments to consider, then crossed his arms and began to recite.

_I've been drifting in between, like I was_

On the outside looking in

In my dreams you are still here

Like you've always been

And my heart did time in Siberia

Was waiting for the lie to come true

And it's all so dark and mysterious

**When the one you want doesn't want you too**

…I gave myself away completely

_But you just couldn't see me_

I was sleeping in your bed

But something else was on your mind

And in your head.

"Those are the parts I think are the most relevant," he said, shrugging. "I don't know if they mean much of anything to you, but…huh?"

Silent tears glittered in the depths of her cerulean eyes as she fixed him with a disbelieving stare. The powerful lyrics had ripped right to her soul, letting loose a storm of emotions she had so carefully bottled up inside. Oddly enough, he had emphasized the line that had hurt her the most, making her wish she hadn't heard the song at all.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, getting to her feet. "I…I just need a little fresh air."

"Ms. Briefs, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset--"

She shook her head violently. "I know I know, don't worry about it. It's not your fault." Whirling around, she speed-walked out of the room, angrily wiping the tears of weakness from her eyes. Footsteps pounded behind her, but she didn't notice. She could only think of getting outside, away from everyone else, to let the strong wave of emotion burn itself out. Bursting out the back door, she ran down the steps of the porch and sprinted for the pond. When she reached the edge of the man-made pool, she pushed her fingertips to her temples and bit her lip, trying to stop the tears that just kept coming.

"Vegeta, you bastard, look what you've done to me," she murmured, peeking through her fingers at her reflection in the water. "I used to be so strong…"

_So independent…_

"Bulma," came a soft, silky voice from behind her, making her jump in surprise. But before she could turn her head, strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and a warm, lithe body pressed up against her back. "Don't cry," it continued, brushing a tear from her eye. She had wanted to hear the voice so badly. Whirling around, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Vegeta," she murmured, pulling herself closer. He smelled of grease and metal, and she breathed deeply. Suddenly her eyes snapped open, and she found herself meeting the concerned gaze of the British inventor. Mouth gaping open, she pushed herself away in such a rush that she toppled backwards into the pond.

"Why the hell did you do that!" she screamed up at him, the fires of rage burning away all hint of the tears. "Dammit, I'm married! How many times am I gonna have to tell people that!"

Andy stood there helplessly, not knowing what to say. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be that big of a problem if I tried to comfort you…"

"Hell yes there's a problem!" she sputtered, splashing to her feet and jabbing a finger into his chest. "Vegeta already saw me and Yamcha when the bastard practically raped me, and now he's probably seen this too! For the last time, I DON' T NEED ANYONE BUT VEGETA!"

Casting his eyes upon the ground, Andy sucked his mouth into a thin line, locking his arms behind his back and refusing to meet her furious gaze. Bulma's scowl softened ever-so-slightly as she heaved a sigh and crossed her arms against the chilly breeze that flowed across her sodden shoulders.

"Look, I'm sorry I screamed," she said a little more quietly. She laid a hand on his arm. "You're a great guy, really. I know you were just trying to help, but I was already really upset and I guess that was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Please, just…just go. You can go back to the lab. However much of an ass he is, Vegeta is still the one I'm married to. And someday," she grated, "I am GOING to make him see that." She turned away, starting for the house.

Andy watched her leave, strange blue eyes trained unerringly on her lithe back. His jaw finally unclenched when she closed the door, releasing the tongue he had bitten to hold back a bitter retort. Strangely, there was no blood, though the pristine teeth had bitten nearly all the way through. As if taking over for his jaw, his hands balled into fists and shook with fury.

"Vegeta," he whispered in a hideous rasp, "I'm gonna help her. I don't care what you think or don't think, but I'm gonna take her away and make her happy. She will never have to cry for you again!" He stopped suddenly, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was saying, then shook his head and retreated in the opposite direction, heading back for the lab.

) ( … ) (

Eyes finally dry, Bulma strode swiftly down the hall, heading for her room to change her oil-stained shirt. The situation with Andy had only steeled her resolve to somehow get through to Vegeta, to say what needed to be said before it was too late. Kicking off her shoes, she grabbed the handle of the bedroom door with a firm hand and swung it open.

When she entered, she was surprised to find the prince sprawled on the bed. It was almost as if he had just walked in and fell face first on the coverlet - he had not even bothered to remove his boots. Vegeta lay with his head buried in the mattress, feet hanging haphazardly off the side of the bed, clothes rumpled and covered in dirt. Wrinkling her nose, she tip toed to the bed and gently sat down next to him, half expecting him to jump up and bat her across the room. But he had delved too far into the realm of sleep; he didn't even twitch.

"I've never seen you this worn out," she commented in a whisper. "Not even when you had been training for hours." Her eyes traveled across the room, coming to rest upon a crumpled bottle that had apparently been flung across the room in absolute frustration. The bottle had fallen into a pile of a series of baby items, which the prince had undoubtedly taken from the baby in disgust. Bulma arched her feathery brows, red eyes lighting up as she considered the possibilities.

"So you had been taking care of him when you came in this morning," she murmured. "I really can't believe it. I'm surprised he wasn't dead." Not really thinking about what she was doing, she slipped one arm across his waist and laid her head on his shoulder, tracing the muscles of his chest with a slender finger.

Vegeta stirred suddenly, making her jump and hastily remove her hand. The prince rolled over, black eyes open and fully aware.

"What, you don't think I'm capable of feeding the little brat?" he growled. "And for your information, I had to do it! No one else was around, and it wouldn't shut up until I did _something. _Besides, I doubt I would have been living up to my promise if I dropped him out the window."

"I'll ignore that last comment. But it looks like you had at least a little bit of difficulty," Bulma mused, eyeing the dent in the wall in amusement.

"Feh." Vegeta made as if to flop back over and continue to ignore her, but something caught his eye. Grunting, he met her gaze once more, only to find that her eyes were moist and red. "What's your problem? Did you squirt that chemical shit into your eyes again?"

Bulma sighed, wondering if his insensitivity had any limits. "Yeah, that's it. I'm retarded, I know. You don't have to remind me."

"Huh. Idiot woman." Rolling back over, he flung an arm over his face and closed his eyes. "Now get out. I'm trying to rest."

"I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say, Vegeta!" she grated, slapping an irritated hand on his shoulder. "I'm tired of being treated like I'm the lowest scum on the face of the planet! Just let me talk!"

"You've done your share of talking and more!" he snarled. "What part of 'get out' do you not understand!"

"The 'get' part," she retorted sarcastically. "Please, just listen for thirty seconds!"

The prince snorted. "Fine. Go; I'll be counting."

"You are so rude!"

"Twenty eight," he returned, shooting an irritated glance over his shoulder.

Bulma threw up her hands. "Alright! I was just thinking that maybe you should be a little nicer to me. I do so much for you, and all you ever do is treat me like crap! I know we've been over this before, but could you at least try to be _cordial_ to me?"

"No. Twenty."

"Come _on! _Stop being an ass!" she raged, beating her knees with her fists. Then, on sudden impulse, she put on a sly smile and said, "But I have a theory; since your tail got cut off, I think you become a little more human when the full moon rises. Am I right?"

"Hell no! Now you've narrowed it down to fifteen with your foolish questions."

"Oh, I think you do," she retorted, folding her arms. "I just loved how quickly you snapped at me after that one, and that flush was just great. Besides; those were the only two nights that you were even semi good to me."

"Coincidence," he muttered, the flush growing deeper. "Five seconds."

"And, however crazy I might be, _I love you,_" she growled. "I just don't know how to make you see that."

"Zero. Get out."

Bulma sighed in exasperation, getting to her feet and heading for the door. If she had to listen to any more of this she was gonna… "Fine. But I still think I'm right." Slamming the door shut behind her, she stomped down the hall toward the baby's room.

"And besides," the prince muttered, shucking off his boots and rolling himself in the comforter, "you can't make someone see something that isn't there." Noticing the lamp was still on, he irritably kicked it off the table, sending it crashing to the floor in a flurry of sparks.


	8. Forced into Emptiness

(A/N: Glad you guys liked the last chapter. I thought it was a little wishy washy…but hey, what can you do? I hope you'll like this one as well - it moves the story with Andy along a little further. I'm too lazy to go through right now and put in the dividers, so you can figure it out. Sorry folks, I just got back from homecoming and I'm exhausted. BUT as promised I'm updating. You can bow down and lick my toes now.

Just kidding.

And ssjprincesscat, thanks for your words of support. They really made me feel better. :- D

R&R guys. Enjoy.)

"Dad, I've been getting the feeling that someone's following me," Bulma was saying. She and her father were seated at the kitchen table a few days after her conversation with Vegeta, and the time had not been at all pleasant. Whenever she went out, worked in the lab, or even took a shower, she always got the feeling that someone was watching her. The sensation tickled the back of her neck and rippled down her spine, sending her whirling around to look behind her every few seconds, just to find nothing once again. But the feeling didn't dissipate; it simply persisted, growing stronger seemingly with every hour until she had become so frightened that she had run to her father, who now sat before her with a skeptical frown.

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, dear," Dr. Briefs said in perplexity. "I haven't seen anyone around that shouldn't be here. Andy's been holed up in the lab for the majority of the time, and Vegeta's only been in the gravity rooms. Krillin stopped by the other day, but you were out at the mall with Trunks and he decided he'd come back another time. But you can always check the surveillance cameras if you'd like. You know where the room is."

Bulma smiled weakly, appreciating the comfort he was trying to offer, but understanding that when he was working, a full blown marching band could blast through his workshop and he wouldn't even blink. "Thanks Dad," she said. "I think I just might do that."

"Be careful, dear," he warned. "I know you hate dust, and no one's been in that room for probably going on three months."

She got up from the table. "Daddy, I'm a big girl - I can handle a few dust bunnies." Kissing him on the cheek, she pushed in her chair and started off down the hall, feeling the unseen eyes boring painfully into her spine. "Go away," she grated under her breath, quickening her steps until she was nearly sprinting toward the lab and the security room.

Pushing open the door, she pounded down the stairs, jumping the last five into the lab and nearly stumbling into a tool-littered counter. Andy was unusually absent, but a note fluttered to the floor upon her collision. Curious despite herself, she snatched it out of the air and flattened out the folded edges.

_Ms. Briefs,_

I've gone back to Britain to fetch some different plans. I was quite impressed with your ability to understand and build my prototypes, and I was hoping you'd be able to assist me in the construction of my newest invention. I will most likely return before the week is out, but if you need me, my cell phone number is with your mother.

Yours,

Andy

PS: Upon my return, please remind me that I have something important to ask you. Thanks.

"I hate it how everyone calls me 'Ms.' Briefs," Bulma grumbled, tossing the note into the garbage. "I'm married, for God's sake! And why would I need him? He's the one who invited himself in!" Snorting in disbelief, Bulma started again for the security room.

Flipping through her keys, she found the one that fit the door and shoved it into the lock, giving it a quick turn to the right. It jiggled easily, signaling the door was already unlocked.

"That's weird," she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ear and frowning. "Didn't Dad say this was locked?" She pushed the door open. To her astonishment, the light blared overhead with an intensity that implied the bulb had recently been changed. The dust on the floor was untouched, but a flurry of gray particles floated through glaring beams of luminosity of the overhead lamp. However, to her great relief, every security screen was dark and still.

"Maybe someone just forgot to lock it. Dad might've used one of those new Everlast bulbs…" She started to turn around and leave, but something caught her eye.

One of the counters' dust had been faintly stirred, as if gentle hands on stealthy arms had brushed just the hems of their sleeves across the filthy tabletop. There was no chair and no trace in the dust on the floor, but the monitor, unlike all the others, had been carefully cleaned away. Bulma's brow furrowed a little deeper, and she swept her eyes across the label at the top of the screen.

"Unlimited access," she breathed, moving across the room to kneel beside the glass screen. Swallowing an unexplained deep breath, she reached out a trembling finger and touched the screen.

The monitor flickered instantly to life in a myriad of sound and color. Then it went completely blue, and the machine asked in a monotone voice - _"State room."_

Bulma considered a moment. The last place she had gotten the unsettling feeling was in the hallway coming toward the lab. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she leaned close to the speakers and whispered "Hallway C-12."

The computer whirred quietly, and Bulma found herself edging even closer to the buzzing screen, silently urging it to go faster. At last, the computer showed the desired location, and a prompt popped on the monitor.

_"Enter time."_

Bulma glanced at the clock. Then, with careful precision, she tapped the numerals on the keypad and touched enter.

_"Processing. Please wait."_

Drumming her fingers on the counter, Bulma cupped her chin with one hand and idly bit the tip of her little finger. The eyes were gone for the moment, but the need to discover the unseen stalker still burned steadily in her mind. "Come on, come on!" she grated, sinking her teeth a little deeper into the soft flesh.

The computer finally found the desired time and flickered into motion. She saw herself walking down the hall with rigid haste, eyes darting furtively to the left and right as she headed for the lab. She saw herself slip behind the iron door…

…and she heard the footsteps echoing behind her.

Shuddering visibly, Bulma wiped away the cold sweat that had started on her temple and nearly pressed her nose against the glass. Any minute now, the stalker would walk into view…

Right on cue, a shadow appeared at the bottom left of the picture. The girl tensed, barely noticing she had drawn blood from her clammy skin.

Vegeta strode into view, eyes trained on the door she had just entered. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, then angrily shook his head and turned to storm off in the other direction. But before he left, he cast a baleful glance up at the camera, brows lowering when he saw the watchful little box. An orb of energy flickered into his hand, and the screen went dark.

_"Error. Error. End of recording session."_

Bulma sank back onto her haunches, barely believing what she was seeing. So Vegeta was the one who was following her. The angry eyes she had felt boring into her back belonged to none other than the proud Saiyan prince. But why was he following her? Usually he could care less about anything she said or did. Maybe it was nearing the full moon…? No. The last full moon had only been about three weeks before, and it would probably be another two before it crested the skies again.

"Then he would have no reason to follow me!" she murmured, creasing her brow. "As far as he's concerned, I'm not even worth my weight in spit. Unless…" She paled at the new possibility.

_Unless whatever it was he was watching out for somehow put him in danger as well._

Bulma pushed her fingers into her temples. "Go figure," she muttered. "The only time he decides to pay attention to me is when he thinks it might affect him. Bulma, you're just a paranoid old fool." Forcing a laugh, she pushed herself to her feet. She turned to hit the screen and cut the power, but her hand stopped as the memory of Trunks laying sprawled on the floor where his father had been pushed itself to the front of her mind…

Biting her lip and praying that the camera had caught the precious moment, she settled back down onto her heels and tapped the screen. "Computer," she said softly, barely daring to believe she would see what she hoped. "Show me the baby's room three weeks ago today, around seven pm."

The computer whirred, sorting through its reels upon reels of footage to find the desired time and place. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the screen went from blue to white, then the picture flickered onto the monitor. Bulma sucked in her breath as she watched Trunks stuff his little fingers up her husband's nose, biting her knuckle to keep from laughing. The Saiyan Prince toppled onto the floor with a curse, and his tiny son bounced on top of him with a shriek of glee. Vegeta scowled and seemed to be talking to the baby. Then he moved as if to shove his child away.

But apparently Trunks had other ideas. The baby snuggled up under Vegeta's chin with a contented smile.

The prince's eyes opened wide as he glowered down at the little boy. Bulma tensed, wondering if Vegeta had somehow hurt her son. But his eyes simply rolled to heaven, and he brought his hand up to rest tentatively on the baby's miniscule back. He spoke one more time, then let his head thunk back against the carpet.

" 'Just this once'," Bulma interpreted, pressing her hands over her mouth. "Oh my God…" Tears glimmered in her smiling eyes as she reached out to pause the image on the screen. "Computer, print," she commanded, wiping the corner of her eye.

"_Printing._"

The girl heaved a gentle sigh, tracing her fingers across the flickering image of her husband and son. "Why can't you be like this in front of me?" she wondered aloud. Shaking her head in wonder, she shut off the screen and went to retrieve her printout from the lab.

"What are you doing down here, woman! The brat is screaming and it's giving me a splitting headache!" Vegeta clomped down the stairs, eyes ablaze, sweating from head to toe with a towel draped around his neck. Apparently he had been in the personal gym, and his scent wafted across the room to permeate her senses. Swallowing hard, she shoved the newly printed picture behind her back and forced a scowl.

"For your information, I was checking out security," she retorted, edging toward the door. "And it wouldn't kill you to take care of your own son once in a while!"

"I don't have time for such antics," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Speaking of ridiculous, where is that new fool you've invited into your house?"

Bulma rolled her eyes to heaven and prayed for patience. "Andy went back to Britain for a little while," she replied. "Why do you ask? Do you miss him?"

"Hell no! I'm glad he finally got the hint and got out of here. He was a conniving, untrustworthy little sunnuvabitch." Vegeta walked into the room, heading straight for the table and yanking Andy's carefully drawn plans from the smooth surface. "What is this shit, anyway?"

"A model." Bulma snatched it away from him and smoothed out the wrinkled edges. "What does it look like?"

"A weapon," he replied, shooting her a scathing glance. "I don't trust that fool."

"You don't trust anyone. It's nothing new."

"Will you shut up for ten seconds!" Vegeta snarled, startling her into silence. "I've been watching him. He's been casting furtive glances at you as he works, and he whispers to himself when you leave. His plans are all for lethal weapons the likes of which I haven't seen since Vejitaseii was destroyed."

"Vegeta, they're training devices!" she said, exasperated and yet a little uncomfortable. "He dabbles in martial arts, and he wanted something that would generate ki blasts--"

"And did your precious Andy tell you what he was going to be doing with ki blasts?" the prince said mockingly, catching her eyes with fiery pools of liquid onyx. "Did he tell you exactly what he was going to be getting from his home in wherever the hell he came from? Why does he continue to stay here even after he's finished his 'training device'?" Bulma regarded him angrily, her mouth set in a stubborn line. Vegeta smirked, sensing his victory and reveling in it.

"You humans are too trusting," he said, turning his head in disgust. "Without the Saiyans, you would have been dead long ago."

"Without the Saiyans, nothing like this would ever have happened," she muttered, attempting to roll up the picture and stuff it up her sleeve.

"What was that!" he demanded. In a rush of power, he appeared in front of her and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "Repeat yourself, woman!"

"I said, without you Saiyans, none of this crap would ever have happened!" she shouted into his ear, cerulean eyes narrowing dangerously. She jerked away from his grasp with a twist of her lithe body. "You never trust anyone - not even me!" she grated, pushing her hair behind her ear. Whirling around, she went back to rounding up the various blueprints the prince had scattered across the table.

"And what reason do I have to 'trust' anyone, woman?" Vegeta growled, crossing his arms in front of him. "Such frivolities often lead to one's demise."

"Oh, like I could do anything to you!" she snapped, shoving the plans into a drawer and slamming it shut. "All I want to do is share my life with you--" Her eyes went wide and she clamped her jaw shut, a faint flush spilling across her creamy cheeks.

Vegeta snorted, but only half in derision. The black irises faded from furious to troubled, if only for a moment. "A life shared is a life lost," he murmured. Then he shook his head violently, turning mirrored eyes upon her hunched form. "However, the real reason I came down to this godforsaken place was to tell you you're being followed."

"Well, yeah, I kind of figured that out when I saw you on camera," Bulma retorted, turning back carefully as not to bend the picture shoved up the back of her shirt. "And I _was_ meaning to ask you about--"

"I do not believe that idiot really left," Vegeta interrupted, slamming his hand down on the table. Several drawing pencils skittered to the floor. "It is true that I have been keeping an eye on you, but that is only because someone had better watch your fool back, you oblivious moron!"

"Are you saying you actually _care_?" Bulma asked incredulously.

"I'm not raising that kid by myself," Vegeta shot back, a little too quickly. "It pesters me enough even when you _are_ around! But that's not the point. That fool of a 'partner' of yours has been watching you - I'm sure of it."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Then why don't you just kill him?" she challenged, voice oozing sarcasm.

"I want to know why." The prince's fist clenched, and Bulma winced as she heard every one of the knuckles crack. "He had no business here in the first place, and now he's after you. Just who does he think he is!"  
"I'd say someone's jealous," Bulma said slyly.

"Have you no brain in your head, woman!" Vegeta roared, eyes flaring green. "You're falling right into his trap, you idiot human!"

"In fact, I do have a brain, and it's telling me that this is a load of crap!" Bulma barked, small hands clenching into fists at her sides. "And if you ever call me 'idiot human' again, I'll--"

"You'll what?" Vegeta asked sarcastically. "Slap my hand and tell me 'no'?"

"Oh I'll do more than that!" For what seemed to be the tenth time that month, Bulma landed an all out slap to the prince's cheek, leaving a seething red imprint on the suntanned skin. Vegeta barely even twitched.

"Ooh, scary," he sneered, shoving past her to stalk toward the stairs. "Fine, let yourself fall into his trap. I'll be damned if I ever give you a second thought. But I'll have you know; the moment you die, the brat is going to hell!" Stomping up the steps, he slammed the door behind him, leaving the entire house shaking on its foundations.

Bulma blinked rapidly as she angrily jammed the key into the lock of the drawer. "Stupid suspicious ass," she muttered around her heart, which had leapt up into her throat and refused to slide back down. "Man, I hate him sometimes…" Swiping her hand across her eyes, she let the picture slide out of her shirt. She carefully rolled it up and stamped across the room to plop down at her computer, irritably flicking on the screen with a shaking hand.

"Why can't he just be like he was on the night of the full moon?" she asked the flickering monitor. Receiving no response but a password prompt, she blew out a sigh and typed it in, settling herself for a long bout of mindless computer work that would allow her, at least for a little while, to forget herself entirely.

Hours later, after careful perusal of the newest update for the gravity rooms, Bulma finally rolled her chair away from the table and drew in a colossal yawn. Drawing her hands behind her head, she deftly cracked each of her knuckles and rolled her neck from side to side.

"Well, that's finished," she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. She winced when her stiffened knees let out a groan of protest, and she reached down to massage the backs of her legs. "Now all that's left to do is make the actual changes to the machinery…Vegeta will be--" She stopped, a frown tingeing the corners of her mouth. She had been about to say 'Vegeta will be happy', and she wondered incredulously why she had even bothered. Tossing her head in self-disgust, she shoved her chair under the desk and headed for the door, all the while thinking how pathetic she was to have him ever on her mind.

"Bloody bastard," she grated, gripping the handrail with an iron fist. "How the hell did I ever fall in love with him?"

"That's what I've been wondering."

Bulma jumped at the new voice, whipping her head up to come face to face with Andy. The young genius had come quietly down the stairs without her even noticing, his stealthy footsteps easily drowned out by her persistent muttering. In his arms he carried a sleeping baby Trunks, who looked as if he had been out for hours and would remain so for quite some time.

"Wh…why would you be wondering that?" Bulma asked defensively, her smooth brow furrowing ever so slightly. Silently she cursed her horrible habit of thinking aloud. "It's none of your business."

Andy shrugged. "I just can't understand how a beautiful girl like you would allow herself to be treated in such a vile way. It blows my mind." He shifted Trunks on his shoulder so the baby was drooling on the floor instead of in his unruly auburn hair.

Bulma snorted and planted her hands on her hips. "Well, that was my choice, no matter how stupid," she retorted, starting to become annoyed with his continuous intrusions. "And what are you doing with Trunks? It's way past his bedtime-"

"And as you can see, the child is sleeping," Andy interrupted, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Now if we could sit down, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you over a drink."

"Not right now. Give me my son," Bulma grated, holding out her arms. "And weren't you supposed to be in Britain for a while? Seems kind of odd that you're back so soon."

"My departure was…delayed," he said softly. "And as for your son, I would like to hold him for a little while, if you don't mind. I've never before seen such a well behaved baby."

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "You can't possibly mean Trunks," she said warily, giving him a sidelong look. "He's always doing one of three things - screaming, crying, or wailing."

He shrugged again. "He's been good for me. Now please, I ask for only a moment of your time…"

"Fine," she conceded, folding her arms and stalking over to the table whose drawers housed his plans. "But only five minutes."

A small smile touched his lips. "That is all the time I need." Seating himself beside her, he took a flask from his belt and uncapped it, bringing it slowly to his lips. When Bulma gave him a questioning glance, he wiped his mouth and grinned. "'Tis the finest English brandy," he supplied, smacking his lips. "Care for a sip?"

"No, I don't drink. Can you just tell me what it was you wanted to say? Your five minutes are ticking away."

"But you must at least taste it," Andy insisted, holding the flask out to her. "I promise you , you have never tasted anything like it."

Bulma bit back a seething remark. "I'll bet I haven't, and the reason is probably because _I don't drink_," she said slowly, hiding clenched fists beneath the tabletop.

"Just one sip," he pressed. "I promise you won't regret it."

_Well, what can it hurt? _she thought, eyeing the little bottle warily. _If it will get him to leave me alone, I guess I can spare a sip. God knows that if I DID drink, I'd desperately need a shot right about now…  
_"Fine," she snarled, snatching up the flask and bringing it to her lips. She took a single swig, recapped the bottle, and threw it down on the table. "Now what was it you wanted to tell me?"

Andy said nothing for a little while. Instead, he stared intently into the depths of her azure eyes, as if trying to find an answer hidden deep within the pools of her pupils. She found herself beginning to nod off; angrily she shook herself awake.

_Bulma, you've never unintentionally fallen asleep!_ she berated herself. _Not even when you had a twelve hour project. What's wrong with you? _She was about to excuse herself for a Coke when he spoke at last.

"I came to tell you that I'm going to save you," he murmured, slipping silently to his feet and laying a heavy hand upon her shoulder. "I'm going to take you away from here, and you'll never be unhappy again."

"Wh….wha?" Her eyes blinked rapidly as her mind reeled in shaky circles around her head. She tried to move away, but some invisible force held her still as she began to sink into uncharted darkness.

"I'm going to make the Saiyan bastard pay," she heard him say as she slipped into unconsciousness. "For everything."

Then all went black.


	9. A Mysterious Drug

(A/N : K, peeps, sorry it took me so long to update. I know, I know, I'm about three days (for some of you weirdos, 72 hours) late, but I hope this chapter will make up for it. Some of it might be confusing right now, but I promise it will all tie together in the end. Till then, have a happy confusing reading. Touche.

R&R.)

_Trunks is crying._

This was the only thought that passed through her fuddled head as she struggled to open her heavy eyes. She could hear her child crying…crying… _Why won't someone take care of him? _she wondered blearily. _I'm not the only one in the house…_

The baby wailed louder, and once again she fought against her sleep drugged brain as she attempted to force herself back into the world of consciousness. At last, her sleep-matted eyelashes parted with painful sluggishness, and she blinked in the sudden burst of light - well, what was a sudden burst of light to her dilated pupils. In reality, the lights had been dimmed considerably to give an eerie feeling to chrome-worked room…

Shaking her head once more, she searched the shadowed area for her son. She found him in the corner resting on a pile of satin pillows, a wail issuing forth from his wide open lips. Bulma pulled herself over to her baby and wrapped her arms around his little frame.

"Where are we, Trunks?" she asked the distraught child. Receiving no answer but a whining hiccup, she blew out her breath and, placing the baby on a mattress placed at the back of the room, got up to take a look around. Everything was wrought in chrome, giving the room the visage of some well-kept laboratory. Bulma frowned, trying to remember why she wasn't at home in her own bed…

"ANDY!" she screamed suddenly, charging over to the door of the room and banging hard upon the metal surface. "You freaking bastard! I remember everything now!" she howled, sending the cramped space echoing with her fury. She beat her fists ever harder upon the metal door. "If you don't let me out, I'll freaking beat you back into the pile of slime you are!"

"Bulma, Bulma, Bulma. You really needn't be so dramatic. All I did was do you a favor."

Bulma whirled around to see a plasma screen mounted in the wall flicker to life, portraying the image of the treacherous man in a large leather chair, twirling a mechanical pencil between expert fingers. His smile was somewhat smug, though a hint of remorse tainted the expression with a bit of pain. He leaned forward.

"I had really hoped you would like your new room. It's going to be yours for a very long time," he continued, searching her face with his cool blue eyes.

Glowering in defiance, Bulma spit on the floor and rubbed the heel of her boot in it. "Says you," she grated, meeting his eyes with her own seething sapphires. "You know Vegeta won't stand for this. He'll come get me, and you'll be sorry you were ever born!"

Andy favored her with an amused smile. "Bulma, Bulma, Bulma," he said again, smirking as the fires of rage burned ever brighter within the confines of her cerulean irises. "You know not of what you are speaking. You say Vegeta will come and get you? Ha! You know he will not. Why bolster your own hopes, only to have them come crashing down around your ears? Take my advice and make yourself happy here." He leaned forward, steepling his fingers before his lips. "Because if you allow me, I will make you the happiest woman on this miserable planet."

"I was happy before you brought me to this prison, bastard!" she screeched, fists balled at her sides. "Everyone accuses me of not knowing what's best for me. But since when do they know what makes me happy? Maybe I like having the special moments so few. It makes them all the more superb! What I want to know," she spat through gritted teeth, "is why I everyone thinks they know me when they don't!" She whirled around and stalked away from the screen to pick up her baby son.

"Oh, but I know you so well, Bulma," Andy murmured, allowing himself to slip back into the confines of his high backed leather chair. "You are an individual who would fight to the death for anything you believe in - a person of true inner strength that gets what she deserves and somehow can't accept it."

She whirled around. "And what do you mean by that!" she demanded. Trunks let out a howl and began to struggle frantically within his mother's grasp.

"You deserved your pretense of happiness when you chose to marry Vegeta," he replied calmly.

"It's---not---pretense!" she raged. "Are you deaf, or just stupid! I _love_ him! Love him, dammit! I--"

"He will not come for you, Bulma," he said gently. "You know this."

"Yes he will!" she screamed, unwitting tears welling up beneath her wrath-puckered eyelids. "He'll come!" She pushed her nose into Trunks' mass of purple hair. "He'll come," she said more quietly.

Andy raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness. Any other human woman would have accepted the dark and dreary truth and moved on - but not Bulma. Hers was a spirit so indomitable, so immovable in its misguided beliefs…

So desirable in its fiery opposition…

"Bulma." He zoomed the camera in on her haggard face, and she looked up at him with naught but the severest hatred.

"Mrs. Briefs," she corrected with a nasty flare of her lip.

Andy sighed and conceded. "Alright then, Ms. Briefs," he said, purposefully using the maiden term of respect in defiance of her stubborn attitude, "I will make you a deal. If your husband -"-a sneer- "-does indeed come for you in the next three days, then you will be free to go and you will never hear from me again."

She met his virtual gaze with suspicious eyes. "And if he doesn't?" she asked warily.

Another smirk touched his thin lips. "Losing confidence already?"

"I deserve to know all aspects of this so called deal," she returned with a snarl.

He shrugged. "If he does not, you will belong to me forever."

"Agreed," she said, a bit too quickly. She forced her features into a confident leer. "You don't seem like the type who likes to lose," she snickered, "so don't be disappointed when you wake up a week from now to find your pretty-ass face slammed into the linoleum."

"Empty threats, Ms. Briefs," he said softly. "Then the bet is on. You have three days. If your prince hasn't arrived by half past midnight on the third day, then you will be mine…forever." With one last nod, Andy touched a button and the screen went dark.

"I trusted you!" she screamed at the blank display, beating her fists against the cool chrome of the wall. "Dammit, I trusted you!"

Trunks wailed from where she had placed him on the mat, and she whirled on her heel to tend to him. "Don't worry, Trunks," she whispered, wiping the child's tears with the tip of her finger. "Daddy will get us out of here somehow. If I'm right, the next full moon will be two nights from now. Your Daddy will come for us. I know it." Raising her eyes, she found a small skylight set into the roof of the makeshift holding area. It was small, about a square foot, but it allowed a breathtaking view of the stars and sky. The waxing moon, swollen and almost fully visible, floated lazily across the velvet of the night. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for the sphere to reach its full size within the allotted time.

"He'll come, Trunks," she murmured again, tugging her little son close. "The full moon will bring him to us." Laying back on the thin mattress, she pulled a coverlet from beneath the uncomfortable pad and tucked it around them, letting the comforting light of the waxing moon lull her into some semblance of sleep.

Andy continued to watch her after her end of the camera was shut off, a smirk touching his thin lips with a malicious flare. He reached out a finger and traced her defiant form.

"Oh, I know he will come, my dear Bulma," he whispered. "He is too prideful to do anything else. However, the part of the deal that as of yet remains unspoken is that when he arrives, he must beg for your release. If you are really worth to him what you say you are, then he should have no problems fumbling his foolish pride on your behalf!" An almost demonic laugh echoed through the hollow room. "Enjoy what time you have left, Bulma. Soon you will forget him entirely."

"Damn, where is that woman!"

Vegeta stomped through the house, arms crossed across his chest, wearing a look that would have killed if such a thing were possible. After the spat with Bulma, the Saiyan Prince had retired to the gravity rooms to vent his anger on the newly repaired machinery, which now, coincidentally, lay in shambles about the battered training area. Half a day had passed since the argument. More than enough time for the woman to get supper on the table.

"I swear to God, girl, if I find you cavorting with that brat again…!" He mounted the stairs with heavy feet, the remainder of the threat trailing off to a low growl in his tightened throat. Somehow he couldn't think of an appropriate ending to his warning - he decided to leave the gory details to her imagination. Rounding the corner, he thrust his head into the playroom and took a menacing look around.

"Not here either!" Storming back into the hall, he ran a frustrated hand through his raven hair. "Damn!" he said again. "She's always there when I want to throw her off the nearest building, but when I actually require her presence, she's off doing God knows what! Shit, woman, I'm hungry!"

No response.

"Where the hell could she be?" he grated. Closing his eyes, he searched for her energy signal. Nothing.

A tight spasm of hunger - or was it something else? - gripped his stomach. He launched himself into the air and flew at top speed through the hallways, kicking open doors and shouting into each of the room with more and more vigor each time he didn't find her. Ten minutes later he was back in front of the playroom, a furious scowl twisting his features as he searched his mind for answers.

"Probably out on another of her ridiculous shopping sprees," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Go figure!" Just as he was about to turn around and fly through the window, the front door opened and slammed closed, followed by a cheery, "We're hoooooooooooome!"

"About time!" Vegeta's feet barely had time to hit the ground before he was off and running for the door. Mrs. Briefs was carefully removing a pair of high-heeled red sandals from her aching feet when Vegeta skidded into the hall.

"Well, hello, dear!" she chirped, rubbing a blister on the back of her heel. "Goodness, I never thought I'd see you in such a hurry to see little ol' me…"

"Enough chatter!" he interrupted, crossing his arms and stepping toward her. "I'm looking for Bulma."

Mrs. Briefs looked perplexed. "I'm sorry dear, but she isn't with us. Last I saw her, she was upstairs asleep."

"Then she must have gone out after all!" he snarled, curling his hand into a fist. "Damn, she's always pulling crap like this--"

"Vegeta, m'boy, Bulma had something to work on today. She was going to be homebound for the rest of the evening." Dr. Briefs laid his wife's shopping by the door and turned to face the Saiyan Prince. "So before you go accusing her of something, make sure she actually--"  
"She's nowhere in the house, old man!" Vegeta nearly shouted. "I've been searching for her for the last ten minutes! Hell, I even used a ki search! She's not here!"

Dr. Briefs rolled his eyes and blew a sigh through his tangled mustache. "Well, Bulma's a big girl. She knows how to take care of herself. Perhaps you should just wait until she comes back. I'm sure she'll be happy to put up with you then."

"Don't worry about her, dear," Mrs. Briefs cooed, laying a comforting hand on the warrior's brawny shoulder. "She'll be back any time now."

"I'm hungry now," Vegeta growled, pulling out of her grip and moving for the stairs.

"Have you checked the lab?" she called after him. "Papa said Bulma had something to work on in the lab, so that's probably where she is."

"I would have sensed her, foolish woman!" Vegeta grated, starting up the steps. Mrs. Briefs shrugged, used to his brutish nature, and padded into the kitchen. When she was out of sight, Vegeta slipped back into the hall and sprinted toward the large iron door.

"Women are such a pain," he muttered. But he pushed open the door and hurried inside, somehow anxious to see if she was present and wondering vaguely why he cared.

He found the lab empty. His lips curled into a tight line as he surveyed the pristine laboratory with keen eyes. Everything was left exactly as it always was - neat and tidy to the point of obsession. Plans were stacked neatly on the workbench and overlaid with pencils, protractors, compasses and rulers. The computer danced through its screensaver in little flashes of light. Vegeta walked into the room for a closer look. When he came close to the computer, the motion sensor caught his stealthy steps and the monitor flickered back on. The prince caught the miniscule change out of the corner of his eye and turned to take a closer look.

"What on earth was she working on?" he wondered aloud. He pressed expert fingers to the touch screen. The document settled on the taskbar spread itself across the wide monitor. The onyx eyes darted across the ridiculous human script. "_Mechanical Updates for the Gravity Chamber_. Huh." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his workout pants, he shook his head and continued his search.

After a half an hour of careful - though fruitless- investigation, the prince clomped back to the central room of the lab and plopped down in the chair by the workbench with a frustrated sigh.

"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered, settling his chin into the palm of his hand. "This is insane! A half hour wasted looking for that moron of a woman. And she's not even here! What the hell is wrong with me!" Shoving himself to his feet, he kicked the table in disgust and turned to leave.

Something clattered to the floor. The prince whirled around, fists instinctively snapping out in front of him as his body prepared to take action. Realizing that he was being foolish, he dropped his guard and searched the floor for the fallen object.

He found it at his feet. A small flask, no bigger than a can of Coke, lay haphazardly on the floor. It seemed somewhat familiar. Had Bulma been using it for some sort of experiment? Vegeta scooped it up and looked at the label.

He went pale beneath his tan.

"Long term submission serum!" he hissed, now gripping the small bottle with both hands. "But who the hell would have had…" Then he remembered where he had seen it before.

Andy had always worn it at his hip when he worked in the lab, but the prince had discounted it as a bottle of human whiskey. But it apparently held a more terrible secret than he could ever have imagined. Long term submission serum was commonly used back on the Saiyan planet during particularly painstaking negotiations. When given in large dosages, it would act immediately upon the person in question, making them agree with whatever terms its administrator deemed fitting to the situation. However, the substance was extremely rare, and usually came watered down and far less potent. The effects were the same; the serum would only require a bit more time to take root. Vegeta's fingers crushed the silver flask into a wad of aluminum.

"That--bastard!" he howled. "Dammit, Bulma, I told you so! I told you he was a foul, lying little fool! And now look where your ignorance has landed you!" He threw the crushed bottle across the room. It bounced off the wall, but before it could reach the ground, Vegeta was already up the stairs and zooming into the growing night. He didn't know why he was so infuriated by her capture, and somehow he didn't care; all that mattered was burning Andy into dust and spitting upon his ashes.

"You've signed your own death warrant, bastard," Vegeta snarled into the wind. Flame burst around his muscled body as his hair burst into brilliant yellow and his eyes flared to a mystical green. "To take that which belongs to the Saiyan Prince is to hand your executioner a blunted axe!"

Bulma awoke to the sound of booted feet treading outside her door. She mopped her pretty blue hair out of her eyes and stumbled sleepily to the door.

"What the hell is it this time?" she muttered, peering through the small glass window set in the middle of the frame. Andy had been performing routine checks on her every hour or so; he would come to the door and rap sharply on the glass to see if she would look up. When she stirred, he would give a satisfactory nod and move on. Bulma scowled up and down the hall, but found no sign of the delusional inventor.

"I'm going crazy." She was about to turn around and head back for the mattress when several shapes passed by the window.

"Lord Frieza has called for the prince!"

"Lord Vegeta, please come here at once!"

"Enough of your games, boy!"

"What the…" Bulma sprinted back to the window and pressed her face against it. The retreating forms of six Saiyan warriors were careening down the hall, their tails twitching with suppressed irritation at their mischievous prince. Bulma rubbed her eyes. "Saiyans! But that's impossible! And they're looking for Vegeta…? What's going on!"

"Huh. They're gone. Fools."

Bulma whirled around to come face to face with a pint sized version of her husband. The boy stood about four feet tall with unruly black hair that framed his slender face with spiky locks of black. The black eyes she thought she knew so well were alight with glee as he slipped to his feet and padded across the room.

"You're…you're…" Bulma stammered, stumbling back against the wall. "Vegeta!"

But the prince made no response. It was almost as if he didn't know she was there at all.

"Was that really wise, your Highness?" Another shape stepped out of the shadows. Nappa, the prince's attendant, lumbered forward to stand beside his better. "I mean, those were Frieza's highest Saiyan elite…"

"Don't get your tail in a knot, Nappa. I have long since surpassed those ignorant fools, and soon the entire empire will be mine!" The child prince clamped his hand into a fist. "I have told you this over and over. Have you no ears, Nappa!"

Nappa bobbed his head. "Sir. But shouldn't you at least feign obedience until your victory is secured? To be discovered now would indisputably mean your demise."

"Bah!" Vegeta snorted with a toss of his head. "I will not feign anything. My father can suck up all he wants; but I will not bow to the lizard king!"

"Lizard king?" came a voice from behind. "I do believe the young princeling is mocking our master, don't you, Dodoria?"

"Quite so, Zarbon. I think we should teach the defiant little monkey some manners."

Dodoria and Zarbon stepped slowly into the room, each wearing an identical leer and cracking their large knuckles. Vegeta glared at them both in silent defiance, small hands curling into fists at his sides.

"Oh God," Bulma breathed, watching the two monstrosities advance on the little prince. She pressed a hand to her mouth and averted her eyes, unable to watch the ensuing violence. Blows sounded from in front of her, and she flinched at every one. At last the sickening thuds ceased, and she dared to lift her eyes.

"That'll teach you, ya little brat!" Dodoria sneered, kicking the Saiyan Prince once more before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room. Zarbon was soon to follow, a chortling sneer plastered on his sickening green face.

"Vegeta…?" Bulma ventured, stepping lightly across the chrome tiles to kneel before the fallen boy.

The prince squatted on the floor with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His face was a bloody mass of bruises; she could see where his eye had already started to swell shut. Wincing, she reached out to touch his wounds with soothing hands, but the large bald warrior had come between her and the wounded prince.

"Your highness." Nappa stepped forward and offered a helping hand to the injured prince. Vegeta slapped it away.

"Get a move on, Nappa," the child grated, wiping a stream of blood from his forehead. "I require your presence no more." The attendant hesitated, and Vegeta snapped his head up with a menacing glare. "I mean it!"

With one more moment's pause, Nappa bowed his acquiescence and stalked from the room. "Perhaps you should go to that audience with Frieza," he advised over his shoulder. "He's waiting in the usual place."

"I will do whatever pleases me! Now get out!" An energy blast whistled past the bald head and the warrior was off and running. Vegeta spat out a tooth and grimaced at the blood on the floor. "One of these days, Frieza," he growled, "I'm going to saw off your self-confident little head and mount it to a pike! We shall see how you laugh when your throat has no lungs to power it!" Then a wracking cough shook the little frame and the prince doubled over in pain, spraying little drops of blood upon the chrome tiles. Bulma's heart ached and she moved to comfort him, wrapping her arms around his thin but muscular frame and drawing him to her heart.

"I'm so sorry, Vegeta," she whispered, "I never knew. I--"

"Ms. Briefs."

Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright with Trunks still clutched tightly to her chest. She blinked in confusion, wondering where the child prince had gotten to and why she was suddenly holding her son. The moon still floated above her head, balancing on the edge of the skylight like a bird ready to take flight at any moment. She gazed up at the glowing sphere in apprehension - was this the same moon she had been watching moments - hours? A day? - earlier? She squinted at the yellow orb.

_Was it full…?_

The screen before her flickered on, and Andy's curious face leaned close to the camera. She flicked him a look of disgust and turned her back.

"Ms. Briefs," he said again, slightly annoyed at her reaction. Yet beneath the aggravation was a hint of uncertainty. "I have interesting news."

"Oh?" She didn't bother to look over her shoulder. She was still enraptured by the dream that had seemed so real…

"Vegeta has come."

Her eyes went wide and she whirled to her feet, a wild smile spreading across her ashen features. "I knew it!" she cried, the blood returning to her pallid cheeks. "I knew he would come! Release me!"

Andy ran a finger along his slender chin and grinned at the ecstatic woman. "Ah ah ah, don't get so excited just yet. I made a mistake in our last conversation - I forgot to tell you the second part of the deal."

All the regained color fled back into the dark recesses of her soul. "That's not fair!" she yelled, stamping her foot. "You can't add more conditions after the bet's been made!"

"You are my hostage and I will do what I please," Andy purred. "As it were, the second part of the deal is that your precious husband must beg for your release - on bended knee!"

"No way--!"

"If you are really worth to him what you say you are, then he would have no problem kneeling for your liberation," Andy interrupted, spinning a couple dials on the arm of his chair. Bulma took this opportunity to cast one last furtive glance at the moon, which now seemed to be laughing at her from its celestial perch.

"Look!" Andy commanded, and she spun back around to find herself staring into the night through the eyes of a surveillance camera. In the distance came a burst of fiery light. The image zoomed in, and soon Vegeta's furious face was dead center on the screen. Bulma wet her lips. This was not a man out to save his beloved - this was a miser set on vengeance over a stolen coin. Her spirits fell. The moon was not yet full.

_Oh, God, how much longer until it peaks…!_

"Two more days, Ms. Briefs," Andy said softly, rising slowly to his feet. "Now let's greet out guest. I'm sure he will demand a spectacular welcome."


	10. The Fall of Pride

(A/N: Argh, once again, sorry for the delay. I have such a shitload of homework… Man I hate school. Hope you like this chapter. I predict there will be about three or four more after this, so keep tuning in. I promise you a climatic ending that you won't soon forget. Peace. R&R.)

Vegeta shot through the night on wings of swirling flame, heading unerringly to the where the energy signal of the treacherous inventor blazed like a beacon on the horizon. The enormous mansion loomed up ahead of the furious Saiyan Prince, and a twisted smirk formed on his lips as he flew ever faster.

"Now you're mine, bastard," he growled, allowing a fresh wave of ki to burst around his body. "I will take back what is mine and mount your head on a pike!" Vegeta's blood pumped furiously through his veins, anticipating the destruction that was sure to ensue upon his landing.

Swooping easily over the electrified barbed wire fence, Vegeta alighted upon the cobblestone courtyard and raised his burning green eyes to the enormous edifice that watched him silently from its perch among the English hills. The thousands of miles he had covered in his frenzied flight seemed like nothing; his muscles twitched in fresh expectation of the fight to come.

"Andy!" he howled, balling his hands into fists at his sides. "Show yourself, coward! Stop hiding behind your walls and come meet me face to face!" Electricity crackled around his muscular frame as he waited momentarily for a response. When none came, the smirk twisted itself into a grimace as he wound his fingers around a growing orb of ki. "You have till the count of three!" he shouted to the silent fortress. "And then I will blast you into oblivion!"

"Come come now, Vegeta." Andy stepped out of the shadows of the lower balcony. The ki-blasted wind whipped at his auburn hair, coiling it in spirals around his perfectly sculpted face. Though he spoke in a low, calm voice, the Prince could somehow understand every word he said over the pounding gales. "There really is no need to shout. As you can see, I am not within the confines of my abode; I stand before you with the utmost confidence in your cooperation. Allow me to explain the circumstances."

"Like hell!" Vegeta roared back. "You've done more talking than I'd have cared to hear in the first place, and I won't stand for another second of your mindless blathering of explanations and negotiations. I have come here to retrieve that which is mine, and I intend to get it back! Unless you'd prefer being razed into the ground," he added acidly. He was already beginning to rise slowly into the air.

A cunning smile touched the inventor's lips as he watched the prince take flight. "Oh, but I think you would definitely be interested in what I have to say. You see, your wife and I made a bet."

Vegeta halted his ascent, eying the crazed maniac of a man with growing suspicion. Every particle in his being told him to blast the fool into the next life and be done with it, but something held him back. Some malevolent glint in the icy blue eyes forestalled his attack, and it left him with an uneasy wrench in the pit of his stomach.

"I see you're listening now," Andy purred, folding his arms with a satisfied smirk. "Yes, fear is a very powerful tool, your Highness." This last was said with a voice oozing sarcasm as the inventor leered down at the Saiyan Prince poised in the air below.

"A powerful tool indeed, but one that is useless here," Vegeta snorted. "Now tell me! What sort have bet have you made with that fool of a woman?"

"I think I'll allow her to fill you in." Retreating into the shadows, Andy pushed Bulma, bound and gagged, into the light of the waxing moon. He kept one hand on the bonds at her wrists as he roughly undid the bandana tied into her mouth. Vegeta let out a low hiss.

"Tell him, my dear," Andy snickered, sliding his leering eyes onto the form of the Saiyan Prince.

Bulma shot a look of utter hatred over her shoulder. "Why don't you?" she snarled. "You seem to enjoy dishing out pain."

"But you were the one who set the terms, love," Andy retorted. Just to anger her and Vegeta further, he leaned forward and placed a kiss against the back of her neck. Seeing this through the trellis of the balcony, Vegeta found himself issuing a low growl. He immediately quieted himself with an inward slap of disgust.

"I don't have all day, woman!" he rumbled, hiding clenched fists at his sides. "If you indeed made a bet with this bastard, you should at least have the stomach to own up to it!"

"It wasn't my choice, ass!" she screamed back, talking as much to Andy as she was her husband. She gave an indignant toss of her lovely blue hair. "This bastard forced me to agree."

"I don't care whose fault it was!" Vegeta roared back. "Just tell me what the damn bet was before I blast you into oblivion with him!"

"Gee, that's good incentive," she shot back.

"Tell him now," Andy said warningly, wrenching her wrists with a twist of his fingers. "Every moment wasted in this frivolous argument deducts time from your allotted three days."

Bulma winced, cursing Andy, Vegeta, herself, and everything else that was within a hundred meters of the balcony trellis. Forcing back tears of frustration and despair, she met her husband's gaze with determined calm. "Vegeta, you're not going to like this, but I'll tell you anyway. A few minutes ago, Andy spoke with me in my cell--"

"Room," the inventor corrected quietly.

She shot him a disparaging glare. "Like I said," she grated, "in my cell, we made a deal. If you would come for me within three days time, you could have me back and never be bothered again. But if you didn't…" she swallowed hard. "If you didn't, I would remain with Andy forever."

"And, ever playing the fool, here I am!" Vegeta snarled. "It seems you have won your fool bet." He turned to Andy and raised a pointed finger. "You've lost on your own terms. Give me the woman and I'll leave you to revel in your disgrace!"

"But there's more." Andy pushed Bulma ahead of him and leaned over the trellis. "Another of the terms is that you would grovel on bended knee for her safe return. Truly, this would not be such a bad thing, if she does indeed mean as much to you as you would have me believe."

Vegeta stared up at the pair on the terrace, his glowing green eyes widened in disbelief. Bulma clasped her hands behind her back and said a silent prayer to every god she knew, somehow knowing that none of them would do any good unless the moon rose full and round within the next two days. Andy sat back and watched the two chew it over in their minds, reveling in the knowledge that he had won.

"I will not," Vegeta said at last, meeting Bulma's gaze with a defiant stare. "But I will have what is mine regardless of your stupid bet! Prepare yourself, Andy!" The sparse cracks of electricity suddenly swarmed into a myriad of flashing light as the proud Saiyan Prince coiled his muscles to attack the leering inventor. Bulma watched him dully, her heart beating sluggishly at her lungs as she let out a small sigh. In a final rush of energy, Vegeta rushed up toward the balcony, closing in at an alarming speed as he bellowed his battle cry.

"Your husband is a fool," Andy murmured against her long blue tresses. Bulma could only nod numbly to herself as she flicked her eyes across the shadowed apparatus set up just below the blooming trellis of the balcony. Andy turned her to face him as the sound of Vegeta's aura drew ever closer. "Know this, Bulma," he said quietly, pushing a strand of her bangs away from her porcelain forehead. Bulma pulled away and spat on his hand. He grimaced. "I am a man of honor," he continued, licking the small wet splotch from his knuckle. "Had your prince completed the requirements of our wager, I would have let you go." Just before Vegeta tripped the trap, Andy shoved Bulma into a trap door hidden beneath an ornate woven rug laid across the tiled floor.

The girl tumbled face first onto a steep stone slide created for quick escapes, bumping and cursing as she fought to keep herself still for just a moment longer. From what she could hear, her husband had just passed through the laser sensor placed between two small marble statues on the side of the house, triggering the poison darts held in the chubby hands of the little cherub boys. She could hear the prince howl in rage and confusion, and the sound of a frenzied struggle echoed down the long hollow chute.

"Vegeta!" she cried, trying to keep hold of the small stone alcove to which she clung, while at the same time fighting to push open the trap door above her head. She cursed as she felt the vibrations of a heavy foot being set down on top of it, and she shoved against it in a futile attempt to reach the man she loved.

"You think this will hurt me?" she heard her husband demand. A small object, presumably the dart, clattered to the floor. "Your stupidity will cost your life! Die, you bastard!"

_Hurry, Vegeta!_ she screamed in her mind, ripping her nails bloody as she continued to claw at the small rectangular portal. _Please, get out of here before it's too late! If you let that poison take its toll here, you'll be just as much a prisoner as I am!_

The brawl continued above her head. Energy rumbled through the stonework, sending her entire body vibrating with the force of their power. The concussion of a particularly large blast severed her hold on the alcove, and she began to slide down, down, down, into the darkness of the mansion.

Just as she was about to round a bend in the ridiculous slide, she heard the sound of a heavy body falling to the ground. Her heart leapt into her throat. She dug her heels into the smooth marble of the ramp, trying to slow herself just enough to…

The trapdoor, which was now almost twenty feet above her head, slid open, revealing the outline of Andy against the twilight. Though he was too far away to see, she could imagine the satisfied smirk played across his features, and she silently cursed him in every way she knew how.

"He has fallen, my dear Bulma," she heard him say, " just as I knew he would. Ever the prideful prince, he fell neatly into my trap. He will meet you down in your room - that is where the chute leads. Remember, love - I will wait three days for him to grovel. Then I will cast him into oblivion for good…and you will be mine." His hollow laughter echoed through the night as the porthole slid shut, shutting her into a darkness so thick she could almost taste it. With a growing dread weighing in her heart, she slid down the remaining part of the ramp to reenter her prison cell.


	11. Painful Recollection and Realization

(A/N: Okay, this chapter's really long. I estimate about two more chapters after this one. You find out a little more about Andy in this one. Yeah, I know there are about a bazillion little twists and turns in this story, but I PROMISE they will all tie together. Vegeta's a li'l drugged in this chapter, so if he's a little OOC, that's why. But I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think. R&R.)

Bulma slid silently down the remaining part of the chute, alighting on the mattress that had been placed at the corner of the room. She had thought Andy had haphazardly thrown the soft mat just anywhere that seemed convenient, but now she realized that he had placed it just for the occasion of using the trapdoor. Scooping up a sleeping Trunks - his face was wet with tears, signifying that he had been crying the entire time she was gone - she turned around to stare at her point of entry. The mouth of the tunnel had closed up, almost as if it had never been.

"Smart bastard, you were planning this from the beginning," she muttered.

The door banged open. She whirled around in a flurry of messy locks to find Andy hefting Vegeta into the room. With a strangled cry, she set Trunks back down on the mattress and scrambled across the tile, taking hold of her husband's arm.

"Let go of him," she growled, giving a small tug.

"Bulma--"  
"I said let go!" The girl pulled harder, all the while shooting Andy a withering look that would have killed if such things were possible. The inventor caught and held her gaze. For a few fleeting moments, neither moved; they just stared into the eyes of the other, each daring their opponent to make the first move.

At last Andy sighed and rolled his eyes. "Suit yourself." Taking a step back, he removed his arms from around Vegeta's waist - he had been carrying the prince slung over his shoulder - and let him fall. Bulma struggled to keep his head from hitting the floor, but to no avail; her husband weighed in at next to three hundred pounds of pure muscle, and she was dragged to the ground as he collapsed upon the tile.

"Oof!" Bulma fell pinned beneath the massive weight, her husband's arm thrown haphazardly across her stomach. Her own arms were hopelessly stuck under the Saiyan's broad back. Casting Andy another venomous glare, she struggled to free herself.

"Don't you see, Bulma?" Andy said pityingly, settling onto his haunches beside the fallen girl. "Even in unconsciousness, he is still a burden to you. I don't see why you can't give up this torturous life and step back into the life you were meant to live."

"Don't you dare try to tell me what kind of life I was 'meant to live'!" Bulma spat. She finally wriggled free her left hand and started in on the right. "Leave us alone. I won't try to escape - I know I couldn't anyway."

Andy shook his head. "You amaze me," he murmured. Slapping his hands upon his knees in temporary acquiescence, the ingenious man hefted himself onto the balls of his feet and stood up. "Fine, have it your way. I will be watching you, though; know that you will not pull a single thing without my knowledge. Should you try to escape…"

"I just told you I wouldn't!" she snarled. By this point she had almost managed to liberate her other hand from the tremendous bulk of her husband's inanimate form, and she whipped her head around to meet her captor eye to eye. "Even I know when to quit sometimes. And I wouldn't leave Vegeta."

"Indeed." Folding his arms across his chest, the inventor stalked across the room to the door. "Well then, as you wish. I will send a servant down with a meal for you within the hour." He issued a mocking bow. "I hope you still find the accommodations to your liking," he added acidly.

"Like hell," she hissed.

Andy laughed and walked out, slamming the door behind him with such tremendous force that the mansion rocked on its foundations. Bulma gritted her teeth and flicked him off through the closed door.

"I've never hated anyone so much in my life!" she muttered. Having finally managed to yank her hand free, she rubbed her temple with the tip of her ring finger, looking around for some possible way around her current situation. There was none.

"Dammit, Andy, why do you have to be so smart!" Getting up, she walked the length of the cell to inspect the various monitors, drawers, and cabinets that were placed neatly at even intervals around the room. Little Trunks watched her from his place on the mattress, his chubby chin starting to quiver as he prepared to let out a tremendous cry. Bulma heard the warning sniffles and quickly left off her task to run to her son.

"Shh, shh, Trunks," she whispered, gathering the little boy close and resting her chin on his head. "Mommy'll get us out of here. You don't have to worry about a thing. As soon as daddy's better, we'll all go home."

Not understanding a word she said, Trunks squirmed around in her arms and held out a tiny hand to his father. "….Da….ddddddda……" he said stubbornly, balling the little fingers into a fist. Tears welled up in his blue eyes. Bulma followed his gaze to her husband, biting back a lump in her throat as she saw several pinpoints of blood on the prince's neck.

"That must be where the darts hit," she murmured. Pushing herself to her feet, she grabbed ahold of the corner of the mattress and dragged it across the room to where the Saiyan lay. Trunks babbled incoherently against her shoulder as she tried to balance him in the crook of her right arm, never taking his eyes from his fallen father. Bulma nuzzled his cheek reassuringly and plopped the mat down beside her husband.

"Alrighty then. Let's see if I can figure out what you were hit with, you stupid Saiyan," she muttered gently. She slipped Trunks down onto the mattress and gave him a 'stay there' look, then began to prod gingerly at the small holes in Vegeta's neck. "You know, you big lug," she said quietly, using insults to bite back the tears of guilt that stung the backs of her eyes, "I'm surprised this entered your muscle at all. I would've thought that they'd've bounced right off." Leaning closer, she pursed her lips tightly together as she pushed her fingers into the bloodied hollow. She gave a low whistle of disbelief. "These were perfectly aimed!" she exclaimed to herself. "Hell, you must have been moving at least a hundred and fifty miles per hour. What kind of apparatus could do such accurate calculations?"

Vegeta's eyes squeezed tight shut, and he let out a small groan. Bulma jumped. Tenderly placing her hand on his shoulder, she bent to gently open one of his eyes with the tip of her finger. The pupil was rolled up into his head, revealing the pearly white underside of the eyeball. The girl grimaced and let the eyelid fall closed.

"Doesn't seem serious," she murmured, even though she felt her heart creeping up into her throat. Despite her words, she thought she'd seen a familiar bluish tinge around the outside of the puncture wounds. Taking a deep breath, she managed to heft Vegeta into a sitting position, his back against the wall. "Guess I'd better check your reflexes, _itooshi_," she breathed, her eyes flickering once more over the holes in his neck. The sinking feeling in her stomach surged even lower as she gulped and gently lifted Vegeta's knee.

_Please, God, let it just be a temporary sedative…_

Licking her lips, she hit the muscle just behind the kneecap with the heel of her palm. No response. Her blue eyes widened and she issued another , stronger blow, hoping to get some sort of reaction from the unconscious prince. His leg remained still.

"Oh God," she whispered, letting his knee fall back to the floor. Sensing something was wrong, Trunks began to wail, and Bulma gathered him close. "Trunks," she sniffled, smoothing the little boy's silky purple hair, "I think your daddy's been paralyzed." _Those darts…_ she thought to herself. _Those goddamn darts! Damn you, Andy! Damn you!_

"Now what do we do…?" she mumbled. "That stuff could wear off within the next few hours or last up to three weeks. God, what the hell do I do!" Hugging her son to her breast, she laid her head against Vegeta's shoulder and closed her eyes, all the while wondering what kind of human paralyzing drug could so strongly affect a Saiyan.

_Nothing from this world…_

She felt the anxiety begin to take its toll on her body, and she leaned heavily against her unconscious husband. As she was about to drift off into an uneasy sleep, a last fleeting though passed through her mind.

…_Then what does that make Andy?_

Even though the world was dark, she could hear surprised hollers and the barking of orders echo all around her as she struggled to open her weary eyes. Booted feet once more pounded down the pristine halls, pounding in her head like the beat of an Indian war drum. Wondering blearily what could be going on in the usually silent mansion, she forced open her eyes and looked around.

She was no longer leaning against the fallen prince. Instead, she was collapsed across a hard, metal posted bunk that was placed among many others - sort of like a barracks. The room was darkened for sleeping, but she was the only one inside. Cautiously sliding to her feet, she took a look around.

"Trunks isn't here," she murmured, running her fingers across the cool metal posts. "This must be like that dream I had earlier!" The other dream, formerly forgotten in all the confusing twists and turns her life had taken, came flooding back to her. She remembered the bloodied Saiyan prince, the smirks of Dodoria and Zarbon…

_The Prince's vow…_

She shook her head violently and put a hand to her temple. "But why am I having these? I've never had them before. What could they mean…?"

BOOM.

The building - or whatever it was she had created in her mind - rocked precariously on its foundations, as if some huge asteroid had come barreling in from the heavens to slam against it. Bulma was knocked to the floor, and several of the stacked bunks fell around her. One toppled so close that it would have pinned her leg, had she not scrambled away at the last second. Finding her back against the door, she whirled around and grappled with the handle, then sprinted off down the hall.

_There has to a be a point to why I'm seeing these things,_ she thought to herself as she rounded corner after corner of the strange building, sometimes having to dodge through passing Saiyans and sometimes running right through them. Though she had no idea where she was going, she ran with a sense of purpose; it was as if though her mind could not tell her where she was headed, her heart had known it all along. Wondering at this new revelation, she came to a set of tremendous silver-and-ruby doors.

Guarded by two grim-looking but determined Saiyan guards, the huge entrance was a myriad of alien runes etched in silver on two giant slabs of Saiyan ruby. The structures themselves were massive works of art, and though she could not read the spidery script that crept up and down their length, she felt awed by the mere power they seemed to contain. Slipping silently past the two guards, she entered the two doors and let them fall shut behind her with a bang that echoed with doomed finality.

The room she entered was enormous. Carved of onyx and lit by ruby chandeliers, it looked like it was built to hold at least ten thousand Saiyan warriors within its shadowy depths. Bulma found her eyes drawn to the center of the room, where a shaft of waning sunlight filtered through a huge skylight and fell upon a raised dais made entirely of ruby. On the dais were three thrones, each made of the same onyx as the rest of the room. Unadorned, they were simply slabs of rock fitted together in the likeness of chairs - the epitome of strength.

"What are you doing here?"  
Bulma whirled around, her heart beating wildly against her rib cage. No one should be able to see her - she was in a dream, for gossake! She pressed herself into the shadows, knowing her effort would be futile but making it all the same. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited to be blasted into either oblivion or wakefulness; whichever came first.

But the blast did not come. Instead, Bulma heard heavy but graceful footsteps stride right past her, heading for the dais. She cracked open one eye and stifled a gasp.

"Vegeta…?" she whispered. The man who had entered was of the same height and build as her husband, emulating him right down to the spiky mound of unruly black hair. The stride, the stance, the demeanor…they were all the same. Except this man wore a blood red cape that swept the floor as he walked, and a sharp-shaved black beard formed itself into a point around his sullen chin. Bulma frowned in confusion and moved a little closer.

A sparkling laugh sounded from the dais, making Bulma jump once again. She whipped her head toward the sound to find the most beautiful woman she had ever seen sitting atop the center throne. The Saiyan female had flaming red hair that fell in shimmering waves to her waist, cut short in the front to frame her burning green eyes, which she had turned upon the man in cool appraisal. She was short in stature and wore a similar red cloak, which tumbled to the ground behind her in a waterfall of ruby satin. Porcelain white skin that seemed to be more fit for a ballroom than for battle was concealed by the armor or a warrior, and she waved a gloved hand idly to the newcomer.

"I think that is my question, my husband," she said smoothly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be doing tricks for your new master? Maybe he will buy you a pretty red collar and some doggy food."

"You know we have no choice, Teraynia!" the man growled. "If we do not cave in to Frieza's terms, then we will not stand a chance against his might. Vejitaseii will fall."

"Better to fall fighting than to be beaten to the ground as a slave," she snorted, turning her eyes back upon the skylight. "I thought you understood that when we underwent the sairea."

"Teraynia, if we join Frieza, we will become more powerful than we could ever imagine!" The man mounted the dais and followed her gaze. The fight was currently at a standstill but Frieza's ship could be seen in the distance, hovering like a fat spider over its prey. "Teraynia," he said again, "we could have the universe."

"Frieza will have the universe, Vegeta," she murmured. Then she turned her blazing green eyes upon him. "I will not submit to his terms. I will not send my son and heir to be beaten and degraded by this lizard man. Regardless of what you say or do, I will fight until the last drop of blood leaves my heart to preserve the honor you yourself have lost." The boy prince came up from behind the throne and sat down upon his own, looking without emotion at his father. King Vegeta pursed his lips, and Teraynia placed her hand upon her son's head.

"You used to be strong, my husband. You used to know your kingdom and its worth, but it seems you have forgotten." Slipping to the floor with catlike grace, Teraynia started across the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" King Vegeta roared.

"To tell Frieza that we will not accept his terms," the queen returned, looking idly over her shoulder. "I will not kneel to anyone, Vegeta. I would rather die."

"Then die you shall!" A huge energy bomb swirled upon the King's hand as he looked after his queen with the utmost hatred. Or was it envy? Bulma couldn't tell. Teraynia watched the blast grow with a sort of resigned interest, then met her husband's gaze without a hint of fear; it was almost as if she was daring him to do it.

"So you are that afraid, my husband," she murmured. "You are that afraid of what might be. Instead of accepting the possibility of death, you turn your back on the chance at life. Instead of facing your weakness, you kneel to it."

"I do not kneel to Frieza," the king spat. "I am doing what is best for our people!"

"By binding their ankles to their wrists and placing them atop the cliff of Frieza's mercy?" She gave another glimmering laugh. "Then you have just agreed with me. I never said you kneel to Frieza. You kneel to your own fear."

The king roared incoherently as his eyes burned wild with rage. The blast reached its pinnacle size and he reared back to release it. The prince was on his feet, black eyes wide as he opened his mouth to stop his father.

But it was too late.

The room trembled with the power of the blast; several of the ruby chandeliers fell to the ground. When the dust cleared, there was nothing left of Teraynia - just a charred, crackling hole in the onyx floor.

Panting, King Vegeta turned back to his son, who was standing motionless on the edge of the dais, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at the place where he had seen his mother fall. He held out his hand, still crackling with energy, to the boy and beckoned him forward.

"You will come with me now," King Vegeta said quietly. "Frieza waits to accept you into his ranks. You will be the salvation of our people, my son. You will lead them to glory!"

The image started to fade. The onyx room swirled together with the soft ruby light, with the little Vegeta at the center of the whirling vortex. Bulma watched the boy step down from the dais and start after his father, but not before casting one last glance through the skylight at the bloated ship above.

"I promise you, mother," he whispered, his small fist clenching tightly at his side. "I promise you I will never be as weak as my father. I will never kneel to anyone! Never! And one day…" A single tear slipped down his nose, and he wiped it angrily away with the hem of his glove. "One day, I will destroy Frieza. I will not die until he falls!"

"What's your problem, woman? You're getting me all wet!"

Bulma's eyes flickered open. She was once more back in the chrome cell, leaning heavily against her husband's chest, her hand clenched tightly in the blue fighting outfit. Trunks had slipped to the floor and was anxiously looking around the room. One of his chubby fingers was wrapped tightly around Vegeta's finger, and the prince eyed him with a mixture of confusion and disgust. Bulma brought her hand to her cheek and found it wet with tears. Giving a soft groan, she pressed her face into his chest.

"Nightmare," she murmured. Then she looked up into his eyes. The black pupils were cold and cynical as ever, but there was the haunting image of the young princeling as he stared after his mother… Swallowing hard, she slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him close. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, kissing his collarbone. Somehow she knew, just like last time, that what she had just witnessed was not a dream but a memory of her prince's past, and that he still held onto it underneath all the sarcasm and toughness of his demeanor.

"What are you talking about?" Vegeta snorted. "Sorry for what? Landing me in this mess? Well, you should be. Any idea why the hell I can't move?" he demanded.

"You were hit with paralysis darts," Bulma explained, moving her fingers up to touch the wounds on his neck. "As far as I know, the effects aren't permanent, but it will leave you unable to cause trouble for at least a couple hours." _A couple hours we don't have,_ she added bitterly in her mind. "What time is it?"  
"How should I know?" he snarled. "I can't move an inch, not even to turn my head. I've been stuck listening to you snore and watching the lights blink on and off."

Bulma rolled her eyes and sat up. "So did Andy bring any food for us while I was asleep?" she asked. Maybe she could figure out how long she'd been out by how cold the food was.

Vegeta snorted. "Yeah. He left it by the door a while ago. Treacherous bastard," he spat."

Nodding idly, she got up and went to pick up the tray. On it was two loaves of bread, a pitcher of water and glasses, and a few rolls of turkey laid neatly on a napkin. Despite the hatred burning in her heart, she found her mouth watering as she brought it back over to where her husband and son lay.

"I guess it's not much, but it'll have to do." She sat down and began to break the bread apart. Laying a few small pieces in front of Trunks, she turned to Vegeta and held larger chunk up in front of his mouth. "Since you're paralyzed from the neck down, you're going to have let me feed you."

"Like hell!" Vegeta sniffed.

"Don't be stupid!" Bulma yelled. "If you want to live to help me kick that bastard's ass, you're going to at least have to eat something." She pressed the bread against his lips. "Please, Vegeta!"

The black eyes stared down at her in defiance, and he kept his lips pursed tightly together. After a few moments of neither moving, Bulma finally threw up her hands and shoved the bread into her own mouth. "There, you happy now?" she growled around the chunk in her mouth. "Now I'll have to beat his ass all by myself and you won't get to help."

"As if you could."

"I don't care if I could or not, I'm still gonna try!" Bulma bit off another piece of the bread. It tasted delicious on her starved tongue, and she shoved in even more. Trunks looked up at her and laughed, clapping his chubby little hands together at the sight of his mom looking like a chipmunk with a mouthful of nuts. Bulma managed a smile, and she picked up Trunks and hugged him close to her heart.

A few moments passed in silence. Then Bulma looked up at her husband, and, swallowing her mouthful of bread, reached out a tender hand and laid it on his forehead.

"You know, Vegeta," she said quietly. "When I made that bet, I wasn't really thinking about your feelings. I was only thinking of myself. And now I realize…even though I didn't really know it at the time…that I could never ask you to kneel for me. You're a prince. I'm…I'm just me."

"Huh." Vegeta closed his eyes. "Maybe you have a brain in your head after all." But he sounded troubled; she could practically see the wheels turning in his mind.

"But you have to understand," she went on, "that when the three days are up, I _will_ have to stay with Andy. I'm not going to break a promise, even if it was stupid on my part. You'll have to take Trunks and go back to Capsule Corp and raise him."

"My promise," he murmured, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

Bulma could feel the tears rising in her throat once again, and she turned to fuss with the baby to hide them from Vegeta. "Yes, your promise. You've never broken one, Vegeta, and I don't expect you to start now."

"You know nothing of broken promises, woman!" he said forcefully. "At that stupid ceremony, I made a promise to 'love and protect' you. I have not. Even though I don't believe in this concept of love, I have failed to protect you from this bastard Andy. At the Cell Games, I made a promise to defeat Cell and the Androids with my own two hands. I did not." His voice lowered considerably until it was almost a whisper. "And I made a promise to my mother to destroy Frieza. I did not." He looked up at her with a cold fire burning in his eyes. "How can I call myself a Saiyan Prince if my honor is naught but a word!"

Of everything he said, the last, almost whispered bit was what seemed to hurt him the most. The bitter rage had been building up since his mother's death, weighing on his concept of honor like a tumor lodged upon his heart. The look on his face tore at Bulma's heart, and before she knew it, she had pressed her lips against his.

"You avenged your mother," she said quietly, cupping his face in her hands. Vegeta grimaced and looked away. Twisting her head around, she positioned herself so that she could look him in the eye. "Your son destroyed Frieza. Cell was defeated, and only with your help. And you…" her voice caught in her throat, and she smiled through a haze of tears. "You came for me."

"The bastard took what was mine," Vegeta said uncomfortably, eyes darting to and from her face. "And you have my heir--!"

"Shh." Bulma stroked his face with the tips of her fingers.

Vegeta was quiet for a moment. Then his brow furrowed , and he glared down into her blue eyes. "How did you know about my mother?" he rasped. "Tell me, woman! How did you know?"

"I…I…" _How do I tell him?_ "I saw it in a dream, I guess. I don't know how, but I've been having dreams about your past…"

Vegeta paled. "Then you know…" He bit his lip hard, a furious scowl spreading across his strong features. "You know how my father betrayed us. Damn, woman! How could you know!"

"That doesn't matter. Please, Vegeta, just know that I understand why you won't kneel to your enemies." She took his limp hand and gave it a warm squeeze. "I understand that you can't fulfill Andy's terms. It's okay." _Oh, God, I'm letting him go. I'm letting him go for good._ "I understand that you want to be as strong as your mother."

"Don't say it like that!" Vegeta snapped. "You make me sound like some sniveling child crying for its mommy. All I want is for her to know that her son is not as weak as her fool of a husband." Closing his eyes, he snapped his mouth shut to show that the conversation was over. Bulma watched him for a few minutes, then lifted her face to the skylight. The sun was setting - or was it rising? - in the distance, marking the limited time she had left as the prince's wife. She now saw exactly what Andy had planned; he had paralyzed Vegeta for exactly three days, and the minute the time was up he would send the prince back to Capsule Corp and keep her there forever. Being paralyzed during his stay, he would not be able to retaliate against the inventor, and neither would he kneel. Bulma would be forced to accept the fact that her prince didn't love her, and she would never try to return to the life she'd leave behind. The plan was flawless.

Noticing the heavy rise and fall of her husband's chest, she sighed and brushed her fingers across her eyes. "You've shown that strength and more, Vegeta," she murmured. Turning to the side, she gathered Trunks into her arms and hefted herself to her feet. "And I could not ask more of you. I only wish I could be your queen a little longer." She ran her eyes across the prince's muscular body and bit her lip. "You couldn't kneel even if you wanted to," she said bitterly. "Thanks a lot, Andy. Thanks for taking away everything I care about."

)…( )…(

"I knew this would happen!" Andy growled, bashing his fists against the arms of the chair. He removed the virtual helmet and tossed it across the room. "That drug I gave her was too strong. She's seeing his past; this wasn't supposed to happen! If she delves too far…" He bit his lip and folded his arms. "…She'll find the one way she can get out of this. And then she'll be lost to me forever…"

He turned and walked across the room to a file cabinet placed at the corner of the room. Opening the third drawer down, he removed a disk from beneath a stack of papers. Printed across the label were the words 'The Saiyan Past'. He clenched his fist around the small disk.

"This wasn't supposed to be personal," he grated, "but personal is exactly what it has become. My master's revenge against the Saiyan Prince was not supposed to affect me. But apparently there is a heart in the machine after all."

(A/N: Hehehehe Andy's not human! Hope you don't have to wait too long for the next chapter, but I've got such a busy schedule, so I'm sorry if I don't get it up right away. BTW, itooshi means beloved, for those of you who don't know Japanese very well. R&R, hope you stick with me for the next weird, twisted, and angsty chapters yet to come. Peace.)


	12. The Long Awaited Truth

(A/N: I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE! I was grounded for so long it wasn't even funny, and then, on top of that, I had so much freaking schoolwork I wanted to KILL myself! But here's the chapter, shiny and new. I hope it'll clear up a few things about Andy. And about the remaining chapter count; I lied. I don't know how many are left. But I promise they won't disappoint. Well, R&R, thanks for sticking with me.)

"Agh, it's hopeless!" Bulma growled, bashing her fist against a dark monitor sitting on the counter. Turning her back to the wall, she sank to the floor, letting her tussled blue hair grasp the bumps in the paint along the way. She had searched for nearly two hours, rummaging through every drawer, toggling with the keys of every computer, and crawling underneath every imaginable thing that could be crawled beneath. All it had gotten her was a headache and another motherload of questions. Why was Andy doing this? Was he actually interested in her, or was Vegeta the object of his intentions? What was he planning to do with her son? Would he kill Vegeta after the ordeal was over, or would he keep his promise and send him home?

"I don't understand any of this!" she said, frustrated. "Why me? Why Vegeta? Why drag little Trunks into the whole mess?" She glanced over at her son, who had cuddled up under his father's heavy arm and was now sleeping peacefully. Giving the screen one last slap with the heel of her hand, she headed over to where her family lay.

But before she could take five steps, a soft hand caught her arm. "Ms. Briefs," she heard the hated voice say, "I would speak with you."

"Well, I would speak with you too, you miserable bastard!" she screeched, whirling around and knocking his hand from her elbow. Andy didn't flinch, but rather looked at her in amusement and took a step back.

"I'm glad we are on the same page then," he said casually. Venturing forward once more, he produced a small computer disk from one of his numerous pockets. Bulma eyed it warily.

"What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

"All in due time," he purred, twirling the little square between his fingers. "I have come to discuss a different matter, but if you cooperate, I might see fit to show you the footage on this disk."

"Then start talking!" she spat. "I don't want to have to look at you any longer than I absolutely have to, unless you've come to tell me how to escape your little trap."

Andy gave a malicious laugh. "Hardly, my dear. But I do think you'll be interested in what I have to say, considering it pertains to your health."

"My health?"

"Yes, your health." Andy's eyes narrowed in concentration, as if he could not quite find the words he needed to say. "It appears that serum I gave you is affecting your brain patterns. I did not intend for it to happen - the development is quite uncommon. But it seems…" He paused for effect, staring deep into her cerulean irises. Bulma could have sworn she saw some gleam of malevolent humor glittering in his perfect almond eyes. "…it seems that if I do not administer the anti-serum, then you will lose your mind."

Bulma stared hard at the insane genius before her. Her brain whirred into motion, but she kept her eyes trained on his. "What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"It turns out I am quite familiar with the usage of this particular serum," he continued, crossing his arms across his chest. "I utilized its effects many times when I was home on Vejitaseii."

"Vejitaseii? The Saiyan homeworld?"

"I see you haven't been slacking when it comes to delving into your prince's past." Andy pursed his lips. "Or have you?"

"Stop talking in riddles, asshole," Bulma grated. Her mind was speeding through the possibilities even as she spoke. _So Andy is from the homeworld of the Saiyans, is he? _Bulma thought silently as she stared the inventor defiantly in the eyes. _That makes sense. But if he's from Vejitaseii, then why is he going after Vegeta?_ _I have to find out more. Maybe if I keep him talking, he'll let something slip…_

"I'm not speaking in riddles at all, my dear." Andy flipped the tiny disk back and forth between his slender hands. "It's as simple as this; if you do not take the serum I am offering, then your mind will be lost. And such a loss would be so very tragic; the human race truly lacks in the fields of science and technology."

"And why do you think I'm losing my mind?" Bulma asked, her sapphire eyes following the compressed data on its trajectory between the treacherous fists. "I feel perfectly normal. A bit enlightened, sure, but normal."

"Ah, you feel normal now," Andy said smoothly, catching the disk in one porcelain hand and tucking it back into his pocket. "However, beginning in probably just a few short hours, your mind will start to slowly meld into the images it perceives as real until you will no longer be able to snap yourself back to reality. Bereft of a conscious mind, your body will begin to deteriorate, and eventually there would be nothing left."

"And what if I would prefer that?" Bulma challenged.

Andy shrugged indifferently, but his sharp blue eyes flashed with a fleeting look of fear that was not lost on Bulma. The glimpse of the whirring emotions contained in the demented genius was immediately replaced by a smug grin. "Then you will live out your last conscious moments knowing that as soon as you are gone, I will peel your husband and your son apart cell by cell until there is nothing left," he hissed.

Bulma suppressed an involuntary shudder by clasping her hands behind her back and digging her nails into her palms. "They would rather die than be your prisoners," she retorted around the lump in her throat. _Oh man, this is getting dangerous,_ she thought worriedly, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder. _But what can I do? It's too late to turn back now._ "Besides," she continued, chancing an indignant toss of her head, "I don't believe you."

"What! How dare you!" In an uncharacteristic show of rage tinged with apprehension, Andy struck her across the face, sending the all-too-human woman tumbling to the floor. "This concerns your very life, you foolish woman! How can you make light of such a serious matter!"

Bulma pushed herself to a sitting position and managed a smirk. Her heart beat wildly against her ribs, but she was in control. "I can make light of it because what you're saying won't come to pass," she growled, shooting him a mocking glare. "Now tell me; what connections do you have with the Saiyan homeworld? You definitely aren't a Saiyan, that much is for sure. Maybe if you can prove you know what you're talking about, I'll listen."

She had hoped to catch him off guard with her sudden show of courage, but he was once more in control of his emotions. The calm, cool façade had returned, and now Andy regarded her with cold indifference.

"That is not for you to know," he spat. Turning on his heel, he headed for the door. "But if you want to die a most painful death, be my guest. I will grieve the loss of your superior intellect, but I'll get over it." He stopped at the threshold, as if expecting her to call after him, demanding answers that he would be all to happy to give. When she did not, he cast a furious look over his shoulder. "And those 'memories' you were experiencing," he rumbled. "They're not real, you know. They are nothing but a wild illusion created by your weakening mind."

"Prove it," Bulma snarled. _I guess he didn't hear my conversation with Vegeta,_ she thought. _He thinks I'm completely in the dark. He doesn't know I have proof that what I've seen is real. _She studied his expressionless features, trying to find a hint of what he might be up to hidden beneath the well-honed mask of mystery. _This is so weird. If he's as much an expert on the Saiyans as he claims to be, then why is he trying to convince me to discount Vegeta's memories? He must know they're real. Perhaps there's something he doesn't want me to see…_

"Prove it?" Andy demanded incredulously. "Do you honestly think that your puny human mind could recreate the past?"

"Not without help," Bulma returned. Then, on a hunch, she offered, "I've heard of some medicines that can cause serious side effects, you know. Perhaps that little sedative you gave me…"

Andy's eyes widened, if only for a second. _Gotcha,_ Bulma declared silently, quenching a smirk.

"Fool. You don't know what you're talking about. But since you and your arrogant pride require more proof, I have the real footage of what happened on Vejitaseii." Yanking out the disk once more, he slapped it down on one of the consoles, shooting Bulma a venomous glare. "We will watch it," he sneered, "and you will see the true extent of the Saiyans' brutality. Get to your feet, woman! I will show you what really happened to this wretch of a Saiyan's mother." Andy's eyes narrowed dangerously. He clasped his fist behind his back, just above one of the numerous small pockets that adorned the back of his lab coat.

Bulma shifted slowly to her feet. _Guess I have to play along for now_, she thought silently. Casting one last worried glance across the room to her husband, she started across the room toward the crazed inventor. As she neared, a fleeting leer crossed his lips, and she wondered vaguely if he really thought he was winning this insane game of chess.

_Check,_ she whispered over the invisible game board.

"Play it," she commanded, crossing her arms and fixing her gaze on the monitor.

"But of course," he replied with cold courtesy. He inserted the disk into the console. With the other hand, he reached into his pocket, producing a small vial filled with sloshing green liquid. Using the tips of his fingers to extract the stopper, he feigned a cough, utilizing the cover of his hand to slip the anti-serum into his mouth.

Seeing the 'cough' but missing its meaning, Bulma smirked wider and wagged a finger. "Don't think you can stall. Let's just see what this 'memory' is made of."

Andy merely issued a close-mouthed smile and pointed to the screen. But when Bulma turned her head, the inventor seized her wrists and shoved her against the console, pinning her to the cold metal with the weight of his body.

"What the--!" Bulma screeched, instinctively resisting the pressure of his hips against her abdomen. She frantically sought to free her arms, but Andy held them fast against the monitor, the strength of his grasp cutting off the circulation to her fingertips.

Without hesitation, Andy pressed his lips to hers, gushing the foul liquid into her mouth. Bulma thrashed against him and tried to turn her head to spit it out, but he held the 'kiss' firm with painful resolve. Switching both her slender wrists to his right hand, he brought his left down to hold her nose; she was slowly running out of air.

_Agh, how could I have been so stupid!_ Bulma thought desperately as she felt her brain begin to swim in shaky circles around her skull. _I fell right into his trap!_ As she struggled to breathe, her throat automatically closed around the treacherous liquid, forcing it down her esophagus and into her stomach.

Andy smirked around her lips and pulled back, letting Bulma sink to the floor gasping for breath. "You think you're so smart, my dear," he murmured softly. "But in truth, I had you all along. As an android, I never lose control unless I will it so. Forgive me if I hurt you, but you must understand - it was necessary to subdue that deliciously fiery will of yours." He knelt beside her, running his fingers through her messy blue locks. "As for that disk…well, you can watch it as much as you like, but you'll only find the lies I implied were implanted in your own mind. Yes, it was a fake - created by my own programming, no less - but it hardly matters now that your past-divining 'abilities' have been subdued. That is the trouble with you mortals." He leered as he took her chin between his fingers and forced her to face him. "Your minds may be strong, but in the end, it's your bodies that decide your future." Leaning down, he bent his head to plant one last, mocking kiss upon her lips.

An energy bomb whistled past his ear and slammed through one of the chrome walls.

"What the hell!" Andy dropped Bulma's chin and whirled around.

Vegeta had raised himself to one knee, his arm outstretched and still crackling from the blast. "Don't…you dare…" he panted, "…degrade…that woman…any further!"

"V…Vegeta!" Bulma cried, reaching for him with a shaking hand.

Andy raised a perfect eyebrow. "I thought as much. Two hundred milligrams weren't nearly enough to keep you down for three days. We'll have to fix that, won't we?" He reached into a holster at his hip and produced a dart gun. "Now be a good monkey and hold still. We wouldn't want the good android to miss and end up with this barb in your ass, now would we?"

"The only…ass that's in danger…is yours!" Vegeta bellowed. Hefting himself onto his feet, he put drew his hands across his right side and prepared to attack. His black eyes flickered green as he fixed the android in his sights.

Andy threw back his head and laughed. "Look at you! You can barely stand, and you speak of victory? You are every bit as pathetic as your father, even before he fell to Frieza!" Suddenly he became serious, his blue eyes glinting fiercely in Vegeta's aura. "Without my beloved Teraynia, he would never have been able to fell Vorenza. And yet he took all the credit, as if she had been naught but a spectator!" The android's hand clenched, and blue electricity crackled around his fingers. "So arrogant was your father in his foolishness that he took her for his empress, only to betray her and her people in a final act of cowardice. Some king!" Andy brought the gun up to point directly at the prince's throat. "And now I will exact my revenge, Vegeta. You, who bear the very name of weakness, will be forced to retreat in ignominy and shame, and I will take your adored 'queen' as my own - by her own gamble! How does it feel, Vegeta? How does it feel to be betrayed by the one you trusted most!"

Vegeta's eyes became emerald slits of fury as he looked first at Andy, then to Bulma, then back again. "I feel nothing," he spat at last, turning his eyes fixedly back on the android. "Because I trust no one! You hear me! NO ONE!" A wave of energy compressed between his palms.

"Maybe not anymore," Andy said quietly, a leer playing upon his lips. He looked down at Bulma, whose eyes were wide with anguish as she curled her formerly outstretched hand across her heart, watching Vegeta as he powered up for a blast fueled by enraged agony alone. _She sees the truth now_, the android thought, his eyes narrowing in triumph. _She sees that the love she thought she knew is a lie. Saiyans cannot love; they can only murder, destroy, and deceive, as they have been taught for generations past._

"You understand now, Bulma?" he asked softly. "The Saiyans are nothing more than out of control weapons of mass destruction. They can only cause pain." Raising his eyes to the prince, he shouted, "And now, on top of everything, you will not honor the wager your 'wife' has made. You will do anything for revenge, including killing her! Some code of honor. There is another aspect in which you are like your father; you both put your own selfish desires above the lives and wishes of others."

"Don't you dare talk to me about selfish desires, android!" Vegeta grated. "As if you've ever cared about the 'lives and wishes of others'! Like my father? Bull shit! My honor is whole and intact; this bet of yours is of no consequence to me! GALICK GUN!"

A huge wave of energy issued from Vegeta's hand, heading straight for Bulma and Andy. Andy smirked at the oncoming wall of power, momentarily vanishing to retrieve the one thing everyone in the room but him had forgotten.

Trunks.

"I think you've forgotten this," he crooned to Bulma, depositing the wailing child in her arms. Stepping back, he turned to see the prince's reaction.

Vegeta's emerald eyes went wide under his swath of golden hair. An unknown curse was flung into the roar of the blast as the Saiyan charged heavily across the room, reaching Bulma just in time to knock her down and shield her and their son with his body. Andy grimaced.

"I wondered if you wouldn't be able to do it," he muttered, pulling back the hammer on the paralysis gun. "You have more of your mother in you than I would ever have expected. Well, we'll put an end to that." He checked the dosage. "A thousand milligrams. That should work for two days. But we'll have to lock you up, just in case." Transporting himself over to where the fallen prince lay, he fired the dart into his neck. Vegeta stiffened, twitched uncontrollably for a few fleeting seconds, then lay still.

"You monster!" Bulma shouted from beneath her husband's limp body. "You're insane! Why don't you just kill us now and get it over with!"

Andy knelt and placed two fingers on the prince's shoulder, preparing to instantly transmit him to a different part of the mansion. "Where would the fun be in that?" he snickered, casting her a derisive wink. "I want to watch him suffer. But don't worry; he won't live long after the bet has been fulfilled. I'll make sure of that." And with that, he disappeared, leaving Bulma alone in the chrome room of despair and broken dreams.


	13. The Love of a Queen

(Alrighty then, I really don't have single damn clue as to what came over me for this chapter. Gawd, I didn't know I could BE that cheezy. But before I get hate mail for this sappy sunnuvabitch, I have to say that the first italicized section was meant to be OOC n stuff. It's a memory Andy created to try and fool Bulma. As for the second one…well, Teraynia isn't your typical Saiyan, that's all I'm going to say. Whatever. Well, hope you like it, and please don't try to kill me. I promise the next chapter will rock your socks.

Yes, I know I keep promising that and I swear one day it might come true. Keep waiting. I'll come around someday.

R&R.)

Once her husband's weight had been lifted, Bulma sprang to her feet, cradling Trunks to her breast with all her might. Tears of rage and grief tickled her eyes, and she wiped them away with a furious swipe of her hand.

"Vegeta!" she screamed, running to the door of the cell. "Vegeta, are you alright? Vegeta!"

Trunks wailed in her arms, but she paid him no heed. She rampaged around the room, trying without success to find a way out and back to her husband. The more her baby cried, the faster she looked, until she could no longer see through her watering eyes and had to stop or risk tripping.

"This isn't fair," she whispered. "Why did I have to fall for his trick? If I hadn't, perhaps we would still have had a chance…" Burying her face in her son's sweet-smelling hair, she allowed the built up tension to flow down her cheeks in salty waves. Sensing his mother's despair, Trunks reached up a chubby hand and locked it in her hair, gabbling incoherently and staring concernedly into his mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Trunks," Bulma murmured. "I know I shouldn't be breaking down like this, especially not in front of you. But I just can't help it. I don't know what to do. Any shot I had at delving into the past for answers has been brought up short thanks to my stupidity. Now I don't know if I'll ever get to see your daddy again…" Suppressing a soft sob, she bit her lip and looked away.

"Dadddddddaaa…" Issuing a quick, miniscule yank to her tangled blue locks, Trunks stared expectantly into his mother's tearstained face, seemingly hoping for her speedy recovery. The little boy's pretty blue eyes were unusually bereft of tears, and he bore a striking resemblance to his father. "Dadd…aaaaaaaa!"

"Oh come on, Trunks," Bulma muttered, fixing her son with a bleary eyed gaze, "you can't expect mommy to have all the answers." _Though you wouldn't be the first,_ she added silently, heaving a bitter sigh.

But the little boy refused to give up. Giving her long tresses another stubborn yank, he furrowed his little Saiyan brow and let out an incoherent squawk.

"Ow! Trunks, that hurts!" she yelped, stumbling back against the console as she attempted to separate his tiny fingers from her tangled blue hair.

The screen whirred to life as the start button was compressed beneath her weight, blaring into high-tech surround sound from various speakers around the room. Bulma jumped about five feet in the air and whipped around, almost sending her baby son flying across the room in the process.

"What the--" She leaned closer to the monitor as an image slowly came into focus. The Saiyan royal family appeared on the plasma surface, a conversation concerning the fate of their planet on their lips. Bulma furrowed her brow and sat down in the chair to watch, wondering what sort of lie Andy could possibly have cooked up for her.

_"We have to give in, Teraynia!" Vegeta's father was pleading, desperately seeking his mate's consent. "If we don't, Frieza will simply destroy us all!"_

_"Indeed, mother," the young princeling said softly. "It seems we have no other choice."_

_"I refuse!" Teraynia growled, tossing her head of fiery red locks. Turning from her husband, she knelt to clasp her young son by the shoulders. "My son, do not let yourself fall prey to his weakness. Nothing will be gained by aligning ourselves with this monster, but much will be lost; and there IS much to be lost…"_

_"Mother, you don't know what you're saying!" Young Vegeta said earnestly, taking hold of his mother's hands and holding them close. Casting a furtive glance at his father, he went on hurriedly, "IF we don't combine our forces with those of Frieza, our entire race will seem like it never existed. Frieza will make sure of that!"_

_Teraynia's face hardened. She pulled her hands roughly from her son's shaky grip and turned once more to face her king, rage burning in the depths of her emerald eyes._

_"You have poisoned the mind of our son as well as your own," she spat. "Your fear is contagious - or is it hereditary? I know not which, and neither do I care. You will be the downfall of our people if you are allowed to follow through with your decision." Whirling on her heel, Teraynia stalked toward the door._

_Not a second had the empress turned her back when a ball of energy from the king's own hand whistled through the air, aimed at his queen's retreating form. Hearing the blast, Teraynia whipped around just in time to knock it away._

_"And now you resort to sneak attacks!" she raged, fingers curling into tight fists at her sides. "You have sunk too far, Vegeta." Emotion clouded her jeweled irises as she regarded him with blatant pity. "Look at you," she murmured. "You have become his willing slave. He is your master, and you are his Saibaman, to be beaten and discarded at the slightest whim. And you WILL be discarded, dear one. Can you not see that?" She studied him for a short moment, then added quietly, "Whatever happened to the Saiyan I loved?"_

_She looked about to say more, but her eyes flew wide as a blast connected with her from behind, piercing her armor and blaring through her stomach to bore a hole through the wall across the room. Stumbling forward, she fell to the tile, a thin trail of blood trickling from her lips._

_The prince stood behind her, hand outstretched, tears running down his pale, pinched cheeks._

_"Mother…"_

Bulma punched the stop button, a look of utter disgust plastered on her pretty face.

"That was the biggest load of shit I've ever seen," she said incredulously. "For one thing, it was _clearly_ digitized. Anyone who's ever played a video game would be able to tell! And even if I _had _lived under a rock my entire life, Vegeta is so out-of-character I could have gagged! And another thing!" She was on her feet, jabbing her finger into the plasma screen as if the deranged scientist were standing right there in front of her. "Saiyans…" She let her voice fall a few decibels as she looked down at the little boy in her arms. "Saiyans don't believe in love."

_But that part…where Teraynia asked what happened to the Saiyan she loved…_

_That was the only part that actually seemed real._

Trunks watched his mother turn this over in her mind for a moment, then let out a heavy, infant sigh and lowered his eyes to the floor. Bulma hugged him close and let her thoughts roam through the possibilities.

"What do you think, Trunks?" she asked the baby. "Do you think it's possible that your daddy's parents were in love after all?" Flicking her eyes across the monitor, she called to mind the conversation she and Vegeta had had concerning the Saiyan 'mutual necessity' ritual. _What was it called again?_ She racked her brain, trying to remember the foreign word with all her might. _Saiba…Sera…Argh, I know it started with an s…_

"God, this is so frustrating!" she burst out, leaning her elbow on the counter and shoving her hand through her messy blue hair. "Somehow it seems like if I can just remember that one word, everything will be alright…"

Trunks cooed gently against her collarbone, nestling his purple topped head under her chin as if to offer encouragement. Bulma barely noticed; her mind was too far gone. Then an idea struck her.

"Wait a minute," she breathed, tossing a glance at the paused image on the screen. "Andy said he created this file from his own personal databanks, right? Hey, yeah! Maybe I can use this disk to access his REAL memory files of Vejitaseii!" Her fingers were already dancing across the keyboard. "If I can just break through this false data…" Creating a text box on screen, she began typing in the complicated numerals of a virus. "Hope this works," she murmured, making a dramatic show of hitting the enter key and squeezing her eyes shut.

_Sanna….Saiisee…_

"Warning. This program has performed an illegal operation and will be shut down. Please correct the problem and try again."

"Yes!" Bulma exclaimed, hugging her son close in momentary celebration. Then, flexing her fingers, she turned back to the screen, a new determined blaze glowing in the depths of her ocean blue eyes. "Oh, we're going to correct the problem, alright," she said smugly, tapping the escape key. "We're gonna fix this problem once and for all." She hit the escape key one more time, bringing up a blank blue screen.

A small grey box popped up. "No data," the computer stated monotonously. "Please input data stream."

"I'll just bet you don't have data," Bulma snickered. Hitting the 'x' in the corner of the window, she tapped the cursor inside the datastream prompter and, after only a moment's hesitation, typed "Teraynia'.

"Enter," she whispered.

"Processing. Please wait."

Bulma stared intently at the screen, all the while trying to remember the Saiyan word that she somehow knew would save her husband's life.

_Sashen…Setsu…_

"Datastream located. Contents; memory file 721-32-623a, memory file 715-23-446b, memory file 722-36-666f…"

Bulma watched the meaningless script scroll across the screen with growing frustration. True to her theory, she had found the memory bank; but how was she to know which one contained the information she needed?

"Computer!" she said desperately. "Perform search. Keyword: Teraynia."

"Searching. All files match."

"God, he really was obsessed," Bulma muttered. "Okay then…computer, perform search. Keyword: Teraynia and family."

"Searching. 722 matches."

"Well that helps a whole hell of a lot!" Bulma irritably pulled at her hair, shooting the computer a scathing glare. "At this rate, I'll find what I need this time next month! Computer, perform search! Keyword…." she thought a moment, then, on sudden impulse, declared, "Cancel action. Computer, perform search for video files containing the words 'how could she'."

"Searching. 12 matches found."

"Alright," she exclaimed. Hitting a few more keys, she said, "Computer, perform search within matches for a word beginning with 'sai', exempting the word 'Saiyan'."

"Searching. One match found. Word: _Sairiea_."

"That's it!" Bulma cried, setting Trunks down in the chair and springing to her feet. "Sairiea! 'Mutual necessity'! Computer!" she commanded, regaining confidence with every breath, "play file!" Crossing her fingers, she held her breath and took a step back, wondering why the ensuing processing period was taking so damn long to load her salvation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the footage flickered onto the screen, recorded firsthand through the android's visual units. It seemed as if someone had idly attempted to erase the recording; the tracking was terrible. But the images and sounds were still coherent, and that was all that mattered.

"_Teraynia, I don't know if this is such a good idea," Andy was saying. "I mean, sure, you're in the elite force and everything, but that pigheaded king of yours only brought half the squad! Vorenza's supposed to be one of the toughest planets out there, and there are only four Saiyans in your group!"_

_Teraynia leaned casually against the console of the pod, shooting small pinpoints of energy at her fellow Saiyans' ships and making great sport of it. She looked barely older than eighteen; her future long red hair was cropped into a boy's cut, and her features were young and feisty - ablaze with the arrogance of youth._

_"Oh, quit whining, android," she sniffed, aiming a slightly bigger ball of energy at the pod just behind the leader. "I know father programmed you to determine the 'best course of action for my safety', but _please_, keep your calculations and statistics to yourself. Even if we are outnumbered by a hundred insanely strong aliens to one, all we have to do is lay low until the full moon and - boom! - they're blown out of existence."_

_"But, ma'am," Andy pleaded, "the odds--!"_

_"Shut up!" Teraynia roared, whirling around to face him with a ball of power poised on the tip of her finger. "Did your auditory units suddenly stop working in the last thirty seconds? I told you! I don't want to hear any of your drivel about the odds!"_

_The camera quickly zoomed out; Andy had retreated. "No, ma'am," he said miserably. "My auditory units are in perfect working order."_

_"Good. Then you'll obey this time." Turning the energy ball back upon her original target, she fired it at the craft next to her and howled with laughter. "Besides," she added, just a little more seriously, "Prince Vegeta is with us." A small smile crossed her lips - a smile that was not lost on the android. "He is the strongest fighter to ever live. With him, we can do anything." Blowing out a short sigh, she shook her head vigorously and studied her next target intently, apparently hoping to escape her 'escort's' disapproving gaze._

"This isn't helping at all," Bulma fumed, hitting the pause button with an angry tap of her finger. "Computer! File length!"

"43 hours and 16 minutes."

Bulma nearly fell back into her chair. "Well," she said shakily, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, "that could possibly be the reason. Computer, skip to the segment containing the word 'sairiea'."

"Please wait."

After another excruciating moment, the image flickered once, then flipped over to the desired starting point.

"Play."

_A beaten Teraynia appeared onscreen. She stood behind a stand of cliffs, sheltering herself from oncoming blasts with battered arms crossed over her head, her teeth gritted in a show of defiance and pain. Blood trickled into her tightly shut eyes from numerous lacerations on her brow, and she let out a miniscule gasp of pain as another scythe of energy cut a ragged path across her upper arm._

_"Teraynia," came Andy's feeble voice. The image flickered worse than usual; apparently the android had been damaged in the crossfire. He sputtered out a bitter laugh. "Guess it's a little late to say I told you so, huh?"_

_"Do me a…favor…and shut…the hell up," Teraynia grated, moving slightly to the left to avoid at least one of the painful missiles. She threw a desperate glance up at the sky. "It's…not over…yet. We can…still…win."_

_"Two out of the four of you are dead, Teraynia!" Andy said fiercely. The camera shakily angled up; the android had forced himself into a sitting position. "You need to get to your pods and get out of here! Now!"_

_The proud Saiyan woman laughed softly. "That would…prove fruitless. Our pods …were destroyed."_

_"…Oh." The camera was cast at the ground. After a few minutes of nothing but Teraynia's small grunts of pain, Andy said, "I guess I've failed you miserably, Lady Teraynia. Forgive me."_

_"Shut up," she growled. "You haven't…failed me. You've failed…my father." In a flurry of waning energy, she fell to her knees, arms tumbling uselessly to her sides. "Vegeta…will only last…just a little…bit longer. Any second now…they'll come…for me." She turned her emerald eyes to a battle being fought outside the android's line of sight, and a small smile caressed her blood-smattered lips. "He was bold," she said softly. "Truly…a warrior to be…remembered. He just made…one…stupid…mistake." The Saiyan girl fell sideways, landing roughly against the rocky cliffside, breath coming in labored gasps as she struggled to keep herself alive._

_"Teraynia…" Andy's eyes fluttered shut as he prepared to be destroyed alongside his charge._

_At that moment, a rush of energy like those Bulma had heard so many times before burst onscreen, penetrating the android's imitation eyelids with its brilliance. Andy's eyes flew wide and quickly focused on the situation at hand._

_"Prince Vegeta!" he cried, pushing himself upright once more. "She's not dead yet; take her and get out of here! Quickly! She needs a rejuvenation tank as soon as possible!"_

_"Shut up, you hunk of scrap metal!" the prince said furiously, blood and spittle flying as he turned maddened eyes upon the android. The prince held Teraynia erect, and he shook her with all his adrenaline-pumped might, sending her ruby-haired head jerking violently with each jolt. "Teraynia!" he said desperately, black eyes widened in fear, "wake up, dammit! We have to perform the Sairiea!"_

_"Sai…riea…?" the girl moaned, attempting to force her pupils to focus on his bloodstained face. She chuckled, sending small flecks of hot red liquid flying onto his lips. "I don't even have…the strength to….stand…let alone…perform the ritual…"_

_"Then I'll give you some of mine, gods damn it all!" The prince crushed her to his breast. A warm glow enveloped the two as he transferred his ki into her body. Slowly he rose to his feet and set her down, gazing intently into her eyes to see if the transmission had been a success. "Well?" he demanded._

_Teraynia pushed away from him and tested her limbs, performing a few basic stretches and taking a couple deep breaths. "I think I'm good now," she replied, awestruck. She looked him up and down, amazed that he had fought that long and still managed to give her half his ki without faltering a single step._

_"Good! Now let's get moving before those lizard men figure out that I'm NOT over there and come to fuse our furry asses to the dirt!" Vegeta grabbed her hands and held them tight, wiping the blood from his face with the crook of his arm and glaring directly into her emerald irises._

_Teryania gazed back, undisguised admiration glittering in the depths of her olive eyes. "You are truly amazing, Vegeta," she murmured._

_"Yeah yeah, let's just get on with it," he growled. "You know the words, right?"_

_"Of course."_

_"Then let's start!"_

_The two turned away from each other, tails entwining and binding them fast against each other's backs, sealing them together with a burst of yellow ki. With one final glance over her shoulder, Teraynia let a small smile slip between her lips and held up her hands. Vegeta thrust his own fists, much larger than hers, into the air as well, wrapping one huge hand around her closed fingers and allowing her to do the same with her opposite hand, though her small palm wrapped only the smallest part of his in the depths of her bloody grip. The two placed their feet directly beside one another, using each other's swaying weight to keep them both upright._

_"On the count of three," Vegeta declared gruffly, casting her a brief glance over his shoulder. She caught and held his gaze, and the two shared a moment of silence, as if they were both accepting the seriousness of the ritual they were about to perform._

_"Ready when you are," she murmured, turning her head to stare straight ahead._

_"One," Vegeta stated._

_"Two," Teraynia said softly._

_"Three!" they said together._

_"_**Saiya-jin soth mirai,"** _they cried in unison, raising their eyes to the stars. "_**Don terith sa Renir, vowest sularus en mithas jen scelles korai. Ki est juntareais. Hiestai neaed oesth tierm, viex coen sei."**

_Blinding light flashed around them, enveloping their blurry forms in a cloud of ki. Andy pushed himself to his feet, stumbling forward a few awkward steps to attempt to see through the growing maelstrom._

_"Teraynia!" he called desperately, reaching out his hand to the whirling storm of energy._

_"On my honor," came Teraynia's voice, floating upon the wings of power unopposed, " I vow with my pride as a Saiyan warrior to be the greatest queen ever to walk the soil of the Saiyan planet and the paths of the stars beyond."_

_"On my honor," followed the voice of King Vegeta, "I vow with my pride as the Saiyan king to protect my empire at the cost of my own sweat and blood. With this Saiyan woman, I will bend the laws of power into my favor as long as I deem it necessary."_

_"As long as I deem it necessary," Teraynia repeated, though somewhat softer than her new mate. The energy cloud died down ever so slightly - just enough to be able to see the new 'couple's' faces. King Vegeta's face was electric with his newfound power. Teraynia wore a look of resignation._

_"I suppose it's time to enter the second stage," she said quietly._

_King Vegeta let out a laugh scratchy with vigor. "Whatever it takes! Do you feel this power, Teraynia? With it, we can do anything! The universe will be ours to command!" Whirling her around, he crushed her against his body, as if to absorb every last bit of energy she could possibly offer. Teraynia stared calmly into his power-maddened eyes, allowing her arms to come to rest on his waist._

_"And command it we shall, my Saiyan prince," she murmured._

_King Vegeta threw back his head, letting rip a tremendous, feral howl that shook the planet beneath their feet. Teraynia watched him, feeling her power grow with every breath, an expression of indifference clouding her features as she lowered her gaze to his powerful chest._

_At this point, Andy seemed to have been blown away by the blast. The 'camera' lens bounced backwards, then landed in the dirt, crackling and hissing until it eventually went dark. The last words recorded on the dying sound system were Teraynia's:_

_"I will always remember you as you are now, Vegeta. The perfect Saiyan warrior."_

The recording ended. Having been forced to sit down by the sheer raw power of the android's memory, Bulma now held tight to her son, eyes transfixed on the now-dark screen as she struggled to absorb what she had just seen.

"So," she said at last, turning shining eyes upon her little boy, "it seems true Saiyans can love after all." Closing her eyes, she called to mind the visage Teraynia had worn as she resigned herself to her mate's power, allowing it to rip through her as a hurricane of lethal energy. Smirking slightly to herself, she returned her gaze to the monitor and searched for the Saiyan vows, intending to write them down and somehow find her way to her husband.

"Even when all seemed lost," she told her son softly, locating the words and carefully scribing them onto the back of her hand, "they still found a way to make it work. Well, Vegeta, here I come; we're going to make this bastard wish he'd never been born."

(Well, you know. Please R&R, and if you want to kill me, wellllllllll….

I don't care.

Ciao. )


	14. The Final King of the Saiyans

(A/N: Alright. Here we go.)

Andy dumped the unconscious prince in a chemical storage closet, wrinkling his nose in disgust as the Saiyan's heavy frame thudded to the toxin-spattered floor.

"That was too close," he murmured, kicking the iron door shut with a hollow clang. "Damn, that woman is too smart."

_Just like Teraynia…_

Andy shook his head violently, trying without success to clear the image of his Saiyan charge from his mind. But his programming proved all too functional - the words of his master throbbed through his circuits as blood would have coursed through the veins he once considered life. Whirling suddenly, he smashed his fist through the iron door, sending a haunting echo rebounding through the empty halls.

"Curse you, Lord Aspa," he growled. "You turned a simple infatuation into an obsession. Perhaps…perhaps it would have been easier to have died on that battlefield, the ashes of my corpse scattered to the winds of Vorenza. And yes," he grated, unwittingly raising his eyes to the ceiling, "I reserve the right to say 'die', for you endowed your creation with the ability - no, the requirement! - to love and lust and pine away until there is nothing left but a mere shell of the counterfeit man I once was. But now I see through your lie, Aspa! You called me an artificial life form, but in fact you created a life that was utterly authentic, even if it were fated to follow your every order. I feel…and I bleed…" He pulled his fist from the seething hole in the metal panel, fixing it with a withering leer. "Just like you," he hissed. "I simply bleed in the way that you yourself had forgotten. I bleed from every inch of my nonexistent heart. And if that is not life, then I do not know what is!

"And yet…even upon your death…I am condemned to live under your command…to live as the vengeance of your daughter, the Saiyan woman I was meant to love and yearn for and protect, yet watch from a distance while I tear myself apart from the inside out! And I despise it!" he roared, fists clenching at his sides, dribbles of molten iron falling from his knuckles to the floor. "I despise this life of solitude and pain. I find myself becoming _enamored_ of the wife of the Saiyan upon whom I had vowed to exact my revenge, and this promises naught but to extend my miserable existence ever further into the netherworlds of the future! And - what a fool I am! - I did not notice I was falling into the same trap until it had closed over my head. I had hoped…" Opening his palm, he examined the bloodless holes in his grafted flesh, cursing the symbol of unwanted eternal life. "I had hoped to be able to end this treacherous life when I saw the product of my beloved Teraynia's only folly draw his last breath," he murmured. "But even now your ingenious trap of ones and zeroes now binds me to the woman who is like Teraynia in every way, right down to her choice of a mate!"

Clenching the 'wounded' hand into a fist, he reopened his fingers to find the crescent shaped gashes completely healed. Cursing aloud, he slammed his palm once more into the wall. "Goddamn this mindset that I cannot sway. Goddamn this obsession borne of necessity. Goddamn this love that you ignored…over the course of eternity…" He turned from the wall and stalked down the empty corridor, eyes fixed furiously on the tile as it rushed beneath his feet. He passed the door that held his captive without a glance, keeping his gaze trained pointedly on the ground. Only upon reaching the entrance to the control room did he glance back over his shoulder, a rueful grimace touching his thin, perfect lips.

"Goddamn this love you Saiyans shoved into a corner," he muttered, punching in the code without even glancing at the keypad, "only to force on me." Then the door slid open, and he disappeared inside.

When the door down the hall had fallen silently shut behind her captor, Bulma let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding and turned back to the computer screen before her. Although she had managed to bring the system under her control, she could not figure out how to turn off the monitor; if Andy caught her now, everything would be over. She was simply crossing her fingers and hoping with all her heart that someone up there liked her - or, at least, took pity on her.

She smiled at the thought, casting a glance over her shoulder at her son. "If only your daddy could've heard _that_," she called cheerfully. A glimmering laugh passed her lips as she went back to pulling up a layout of the building. "He would throw me out the window!" she finished jovially as the desired blueprint popped up onscreen. Clicking expertly on the image, she enlarged the third floor and highlighted the room labeled 'Holding Area'.

"Computer," she commanded, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear, "Locations and dimensions of Holding Area's ventilation."

"Processing. Six locations. Dimensions: 13cm x 8cm. Please specify--"

"Agh, that won't work." She clicked out of the popup window and quietly drummed her fingertips on the touchpad, making the cursor fly wildly around the screen. For the first time since breaking into the datastream, she had run out of ideas. It was time to work from scratch.

Cracking her knuckles, she leaned forward to inspect the image before her. Beside the trapdoor above her head, the room was sealed tight, the door being the only other usable exit.

"Go figure," she muttered, rubbing her forehead irritably. The anxiety was starting to creep up on her once again, clenching the nerves at the base of her neck and sending tiny tremors up and down her spine. She licked her lips and gave the print one last quick perusal.

"Nothing." She let her head land hard against the screen. "Dammit, now what? I was so close!"

She heard her baby squawk from his place on the mattress, and she twisted around to see what was the matter. The baby had somehow ripped a hole in the mattress and was now pulling out the stuffing by the fistful, making a small cloud of fluffy padding around his chubby legs. A wide smile was spread across his face, and he playfully tossed some up in the air, laughing loudly as it came floating back down around his head.

Bulma allowed herself a small grin and shook her head. "Well, whatever floats your boat, honey. As long as you're not screaming or choking to death, I don't have time to care what you're doing." She started to turn around, but it was as if her words had suddenly given the baby the idea to do just that. Trunks promptly scooped up a handful of the fluff and stuck it in his mouth.

"Ack! Trunks, you'll choke yourself!" Bulma cried, nearly falling out of her seat as she struggled to get to her son.

The baby gummed the fibers for a few seconds, then made a comical face and spat out the sticky wad, gabbling angrily as he smacked his hand down on top of the whole mess.

Bulma pressed a hand over her thudding heart, breathing a sigh of relief. "Geez, kid, don't do that to me! I have enough to worry about as it is." Picking herself up out of the floor, she hefted herself back into the chair and prepared to look for another way out.

**_BOOM_**.

The concussion nearly sent her through the roof. "WHAT THE HELL!" she yelped, whirling around so fast she sent the chair tumbling to the ground.

Trunks hadn't moved, but an enormous hole had opened up under his hand. It had clearly been created by a ki blast, that much was evident. But where had it come from? Bulma's gaze traveled back and forth from her son to the hole as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. _Surely Trunks couldn't have…?_

Then, right before her eyes, the little boy turned his sights upon the downy pile around him. Letting out a wordless screech of aggravation, he touched his hands to the stuffing and proceeded to blast it to ashes.

Bulma watched dumbly for a moment, her mouth hanging slightly open as she attempted to process what she had just seen. Then her cerulean eyes lit up, and she charged over to her little boy, scooping him into her arms and tossing him into the air.

"You did it, Trunks!" she cried happily, tears of joy forming in the corners of her eyes. "Now we can save daddy and go home!" She tugged him close and headed for the door. "Alright," she told him, setting him down by the wall. "When you blast through, we're going to have to make a run for it. I have a good feeling Andy shoved him in one of the closets on this floor. He wasn't gone long, and I heard a door slam down the hall-- Wait. Why am I telling you this? You don't understand a word I'm saying." She shot her son a sheepish grin and ran back to the mattress to retrieve some of the stuffing. Trunks eyed her warily, then stuck his tiny fist into his mouth and smeared a slobbery handprint on the wall.

Making sure she had enough fluffy padding, she took one last look at the blueprint, trusting her photographic memory to take care of the rest. Then she rushed over to where her son sat against the wall, placing the stuffing against the chrome baseboard and taking a step back. "Go ahead, Trunksie Poo," she cooed, pushing the little ball of fibers closer to him with the toe of her shoe and crossing her fingers behind her back.

The young Saiyan gave a shrill shriek and pulled himself up next to the puff ball. Placing his miniscule palm atop it, he blasted it out of existence, taking a portion of the wall three feet in diameter with it.

"YES!" Bulma exclaimed, waving the smoke out of her face and reaching for her child. But her elation didn't last long; a sharp siren began to blare, almost knocking her to her knees with its piercing tones. Biting her tongue against the pain, she grabbed her son off the floor and stumbled out into the hallway.

"Vegeta!" she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the siren as she tore down the corridor as fast as her legs would carry her. "Vegeta, can you hear me? Where are you!" She could already hear the control room door sliding up, releasing Andy into the mazelike halls for a terrorizing game of cat and mouse. Swallowing her fear, Bulma skidded around the corner, trying to keep her heart from clogging her throat as she searched frantically for some trace of her husband.

"Vegeta!" she called again, twisting her head this way and that, breath coming in labored gasps through a ragged throat. Footsteps echoed from down the hall, making every heartbeat sound like a signal drum. Bulma bit back a frustrated cry and pushed open a random door, hiding herself behind a sheet draped across a forgotten mirror.

The android slowly passed the room. His heavy footfalls clicked on the metal tile as he moved steadily down the hall. "I know you're here, Bulma," he called softly. "It's only a matter of time before I find you. Alright, I'll play your little game. There is nothing you can do to help your husband; our deal is unbreakable. Try as you might, you will still be mine."

Bulma held her hand over her mouth, not daring to breathe as long as Andy was within fifty feet of the door. Then she heard him retreating down the hall, followed by the sound of expensive shoes descending a flight of stairs. Unable to hold it any longer, she let out her breath, watching it whistle through the baby's soft hair with widened eyes.

"That was too close," she whispered. "But there's no time for that now. We need to find your father." Creeping back out into the hall, she started examining each of the doors with careful precision, certain Andy would not return for at least a little while. But then Trunks began to struggle against her, and she shot him a furtive glance.

"Eh…ehhhh!" the baby grunted, reaching desperately for something out of her line of sight. Bulma desperately tried to shush him, but he would not be ignored; he stretched and strained, reaching as far as he could beyond her shoulder.

"What, what is it?" she asked finally, turning around to look. At the end of the hall was an iron door with a hole punched through the top. Her heart leapt into her throat despite all former precautions. Tucking the baby firmly against her breast, she scampered down the hall, opening the door before she had even come to a full stop.

The prince lay on the floor at her feet, sprawled on the sticky chrome in a tangle of arms and legs. His glossy black hair was matted with chemicals, and his handsome face was smashed into the tile. The prince had been utterly humbled, and the sight was nothing short of heartbreaking.

"Oh, Vegeta…" Bulma knelt next to him, gently lifting his head onto her lap and stroking the silky raven locks with the tips of her fingers. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then placed her hand on his shoulder and issued a gentle shake. "Vegeta, please, wake up! I know how to get us out of here! Please, open your eyes…"

"Nn…" The prince's eyelids fluttered, and he blearily forced himself to focus. "B…Bulma…!" He immediately struggled to move, only to find his arms and legs one more outside his control. Muttering a curse under his breath, he let his head fall wearily back against her thighs.

"Shh, shh…don't move yet," she crooned, burying her fingers deeper into his ebony hair. "I found a way to get us out of here."

"What!" Vegeta forced himself to meet her gaze, eyes wide and alert. "Tell me, woman! What is it?"

"The _Sairiea_," she answered softly.

"The _Sairiea_!" The prince jerked upright, the shock of her statement renewing the connection between his nerves as he shakily stared her in the eye. "You've got to be joking, woman! You are not a Saiyan!"

"So what?" she returned, throwing a worried look over her shoulder. "It will increase your power, won't it? Come on, it won't kill you to join with me! You already did it in the human sense; so what if you do it just once more?"

"Because it's wrong, that's why!" Vegeta roared, fire sparkling in the depths of his onyx eyes. "I am a Saiyan warrior! You are a human woman, with no more power than an insect! What would I gain by joining myself with--" His muscles gave out, and he slumped back against her lap, a terrifying grimace on his lips.

"Well, for one thing, you'd be able to move," Bulma said testily, resisting the urge to let him fall back to the floor. "And for another thing…" She trailed off. What _would_ Vegeta gain from their union? She hadn't thought of that. Trunks hiccupped from the crook of her left arm, and she shot him a helpless glance.

"And for another thing, what?" Vegeta sneered into her lap. "Would I learn how to change diapers? Or perhaps how to cry?"

Bulma growled and turned his head so she could look him in the eye. "Or perhaps how to love, like your mother loved your father?" she said icily. "After all, isn't that what won them the battle on Vorenza?"

"Strength won the battle on Vorenza, and strength alone!" Vegeta snarled. He fell silent, his head resting wearily on her lap. After a few silent moments, he spoke again, this time much softer than before. "My father underwent the Sairiea. My father wanted power, and he got it," he muttered. "And for what! To hand it over to Frieza, that's what. Well, I refuse to be like him. I refuse to allow myself to become the coward my father was." He met her gaze once more. "I will not go back on my promise the way my father went back on his."

Bulma's breath caught in her throat. "V…Vegeta…" She set Trunks gently on the ground and pulled Vegeta into a sitting position. Easing herself behind him, she pressed him to her body as tightly as she could. "Vegeta," she said softly, cupping his cheek with the palm of her left hand and gently kissing his ear, "if…if you don't want to do it…then I guess you don't have to." She felt the lump coming back to haunt her, and she angrily forced it back down into her stomach. "You'll have your pride and your honor. I'll just have to live the rest of my life…knowing my son will never know his father."

Vegeta's brow furrowed as he felt her nestle against his back. "Never know his father…what are you talking about? Woman, that _was_ my promise! I vowed to raise the child until he came of age! I will take the brat back with me when the three days are up--"

"No you won't," Bulma interrupted, lowering her thick lashes as she kissed the back of his neck. She found herself wondering idly if the moon was really full after all; somehow it didn't seem to matter that much anymore. Sighing heavily, she tugged him closer. "Andy plans to kill you as soon as the time is up."

"What! That bastard! Where is the honor in striking down a man when he cannot move!" Vegeta demanded, grinding his teeth together in disbelief.

"There isn't any. That's the point." Bulma blew her hair out of her face. "This isn't about honor; this is about revenge. Andy was your mother's android, appointed by her father to watch over her on her mission to Vorenza."

Vegeta's brow furrowed. "And how do you know this?" he asked quietly.

"I hacked into some of Andy's memory files."

"Huh." Vegeta lowered his gaze. "So it seems you're not completely useless after all."

Bulma allowed herself a brief smirk. "So it seems."

Trunks, who had been watching all this in patient silence, decided he could sit still no longer. Using one of the iron shelves to pull himself onto his tiny feet, he toddled over to his parents and latched onto his father's limp arm, locking blue eyes with black as he stared his father steadfastly in the face.

Vegeta glared back for a few moments, then let forth a low, malicious chuckle. "He has your eyes, woman," he muttered.

"But he has your strength, Vegeta." Reaching around her husband, she picked up the child and set him on his father's stomach. "He was the one who got me out of that holding cell in the first place."

For the first time in his young life, the little boy received his father's utmost attention. "Did he?" Vegeta murmured. Trunks looked up at his father and smiled, spitting out a stray bit of mattress stuffing that had managed to evade him earlier. It landed on Vegeta's muscular chest, and the baby immediately lunged for it.

Bulma's eyes went wide. "Wait, Trunks, no--!"

With a squeal of delight, the baby placed his hand atop the sodden clump of fibers and blasted it to bits. Vegeta quickly shut his eyes, and Bulma turned her head away to shield herself from the blast. When the light of the energy faded, Vegeta looked back to his son, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"You weren't joking, were you?" he muttered. "Well, seems the brat could have some potential after all." A look of renewed determination settled onto his handsome features, furrowing his silky brow as he flicked his gaze briefly between his wife and his son. Then, forcing himself up onto his elbows, Vegeta shoved Trunks roughly onto the floor and struggled to attain a sitting position.

"Ah, Vegeta, what are you doing!" Bulma demanded, attempting to push her husband back down onto her lap. "Don't hurt yourself! Hold still--"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Vegeta roared. "I have to be standing to perform the _Sairiea_, foolish woman! Now regain your feet so we can get this over with!" He caught hold of one of the shelves, nearly toppling it over on top of him as he used it to support the weight his shaky knees could not hold.

Bulma stared at him. "But…" she said faintly, " you just said…!"

"Shut up! I know what I just said!" he growled furiously, shifting his burning onyx eyes upon her slouched frame. He held her gaze for a few short moments, then let it fall upon the floor, remarkably close to where his young son sat irritably poking at a dust bunny. "But it seems that in order to keep my vow, I must go through with the _Sairiea_ after all." When the blue haired beauty met his gaze uncertainly, he issued a growl and slammed his hand into the metal shelf. "Dammit woman, I swear on my honor that I will not make the same mistake my father made! Is that good enough for you!"

Bulma snapped out of her stupor with a sharp shake of her head. "N-no, I didn't doubt that. It's just that you changed your mind so quickly! I thought you were deadset against--"

"Am I not allowed to change my mind now?" he demanded.

"I didn't say that either!" Bulma grated, getting slowly to her feet. "It was just so sudden. Are you sure? You seemed so fixed on not being like your father--"

"OF COURSE I'M SURE!" he shouted, eyes darting warily down the hallway. "I am fixed on not being like my father, as you say, but in order to do so, I must keep my promises, even at the cost of my own denominations!" Pushing away from the shelves, he swayed uncertainly on his feet for a few breathless seconds before shakily regaining his balance. "Even if I don't believe that undergoing the _Sairiea_ will change a single damn thing, if it's the only chance I have to fulfill my promise, I will take it!" He turned around, motioning her near with an impatient gesture thrown over his shoulder. "Now hurry up! We don't have all day!"

Bulma risked a quick glance at Trunks, wondering if her little son's strength was what had inspired this sudden change in her husband. The boy looked back at her, then went back to trying to swallow his toes. She shook her head incredulously, then shifted her eyes back to Vegeta.

"If you're sure," she murmured, daring to meet his gaze.

The prince held her cerulean gaze for a moment, then rolled his ebony eyes and twisted away from her, a soft 'tch' escaping his pursed lips. "Just get into position, woman," he said softly.

Bulma nodded slightly and moved to stand behind him, her back pressed lightly against his. She could feel the weakened muscles straining with the effort of standing, and she bit her lip to keep from flinging a curse at the demented inventor right then and there.

"Let's do this," she growled, holding up her hands and waiting for him to follow suit.

She felt him consent as he pushed himself hard against her back, sliding his feet next to hers to bring them into the required position. His gloved hands enveloped hers just as his father's had covered those of his queen, and she couldn't suppress a smile as she imagined herself in the place of the incredible Saiyan woman. Angling her head to see the writing on her wrist, Bulma gently nudged her prince with her heel.

"Ready when you are," she said in what she hoped was a confident tone. In truth, she was terrified; what if the ritual didn't work? What if she wasn't good enough to give her husband the strength he required? And most importantly…

What if she couldn't help Vegeta keep his promise?

_I guess we'll find out_, she thought in resignation, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the count to begin. _Trunks, if this doesn't work, please forgive me. I tried, I truly did…_

"One," Vegeta grated, willing his knees to hold out just a little while longer.

Bulma blew out her breath, praying vehemently that she would get the pronunciation of the foreign words correct. "Two."

Both tensed as they prepared to meet their destiny.

"Three!"

_"_**Saiya-jin soth mirai,"** they said together. Bulma suppressed a sigh of relief as her words blended perfectly with those of the Saiyan Prince. "**Don terith sa Renir, vowest sularus en mithas jen scelles korai. Ki est juntareais. Hiestai neaed oesth tierm, viex coen sei."**

A blinding light flashed around them. Vegeta's eyes went wide, and he risked a glance over his shoulder.

"It's…working!" he cried in disbelief.

Bulma smirked. "Of course it is!" she replied happily. "Did you honestly think I could make a mistake like that?"

"Yes," came his immediate retort. "But at the very least, I expected you to make a pronunciation error, woman!"

"Just shut up tell me if you're getting any stronger!"

"Not yet!" he growled. "I believe we have to make our vows before our souls are conjoined."

"Ladies first," she said teasingly.

"Go ahead," he shot back icily.

Bulma rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright then," she said quietly. Delving deep into the depths of her soul, she sought the words she had longed to say for so long but had never found the courage to speak. It took no more than a second; it seemed they had been on the tip of her tongue all along.

"On my honor," she said softly, "I vow to become the first human queen to win the respect of her king. I will show him the limits of power and the boundaries of strength…and I will show him the immeasurable possibilities of love."

She felt Vegeta go rigid against her back, and she wondered for a petrifying moment if her bold words would make him call the ritual off entirely. _I'll kill him if he does,_ she thought wildly. _He has to know how crucial this moment is!_ She held her breath, waiting apprehensively for his reply.

Eventually his muscles relaxed, and she thought she could feel his hand tightening ever so slightly around her fist. "On my honor," came his response, piercing her veins with the sharp intensity of their power and sending an electric shiver down her spine, "I vow to live out the dying hours of the Saiyan race with the eternal pride of my people coursing through my blood. I vow to ascend to the pinnacle of perfection. I will exclude no hardship, evade no sacrifice to ease my path. As the final King of the Saiyans, I vow to ensure our race's place in history as the greatest warrior race to fall to their own foolish agendas. Though our blood will dwindle and die with the passage of time, with the help of my queen, I vow to make it count until the last crimson drop fades into eternity."

Bulma's eyes went wide as the beautiful words flowed past her ears, rushing into the river of time to be lost to the past. The powerful speech seemed to stem not from the single Saiyan man at her side, but from the essence of the race itself - the death cry of a race that deemed itself immortal only to find itself destroyed. The girl glanced over her shoulder to find her prince's eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace pulling taut the lips she'd hoped would be twisted into the ecstatic leer of power. Letting her gaze return to the floor in front of her, she bit her lip in a silent plea.

_If there is a God up there, please let this work…_

Energy coursed around them, binding them together in a shimmering cocoon of light. The second stage was about to begin. Bulma braced herself for the unknown, holding tight to her husband as they spiraled into the mysterious abyss known as the _Sairiea_.

Andy whirled at the sound of the vortex, flashing blue eyes widening in fear as he stared incredulously at the ceiling.

"It can't be…" he whispered. "It's not possible! A human and a Saiyan cannot unite! She'll be destroyed!" He was already tearing up the hall, a crazed but determined expression settling over his pristine, porcelain features. "I have to stop it," he growled, mounting the steps four by four. "I will not let Bulma meet the same fate as Teraynia! Damn you, Vegeta! Damn you to hell!"

(A/N: Okay. The _Sairiea_ is underway. Andy's worried. Will it work? Who knows. What's the second part of the ritual? Gotta stay tuned to find out. Will the vows be sufficient to bind them together? Dunno. Heheh but all will be revealed next chapter, when the prince of the Saiyans confronts his deepest hatred, the girl who loves him faces off with the agonizing tears in her soul, and the android who lost it all is forced to face the destiny that has ever eluded him in his quest for the end of love itself. Will a love that never existed outside of lust be enough to save the new-bound couple from themselves? Next time: the final chapter of NOTHING YET EVERYTHING.)


	15. Nothing Yet Everything

(Alright peeps, here it is. Hope you enjoy it.)

There was nothing but darkness.

Everywhere she turned, Bulma was greeted by the same empty, black, limitless space that stretched eternally out in every direction. And with the everlasting abyss came the terrifying feeling that she was alone.

Utterly alone.

"Vegeta?" she ventured softly, trying not to let the fear bubble up under her words. What if something had gone wrong? What if she, being human, couldn't meet the demands of the Saiyan ritual, plunging them both into the twilight zone of limbo? _I've got to find him,_ she thought desperately, eyes flickering uselessly across the black expanse before her. _He's got to be here somewhere. _Placing a trembling hand over her heart, she risked a single step forward.

She instantly regretted ever moving at all.

The ground - or was it the ceiling? - roiled beneath her, opening a gasping hole in space and time to swallow her up in a howling rush of wind. She felt herself slipping into the abyss, unable to do anything but grit her teeth as a silent scream ripped through her skull and rendered her helpless.

As she fell, the darkness seemed to form itself around her, creating manacles of shadows to suspend her over the gaping chasm of the _Sairiea_. Swallowing hard, she ventured a tentative glance toward her feet, and was not surprised to be greeted by naught but space and time.

"Vegeta!" she called, straining to hear even the slightest hint of a reply. The cavernous shadows echoed her cry, throwing it endlessly against the phantasmal walls until it resonated into eternity. Heaving a heartfelt sigh, she let her chin fall to rest on her collarbones.

"So now what?" she wondered aloud, willing her heart to abandon its frantic attempts to escape her rib cage with deep calming breaths. Emptiness swirled around her, mocking her, taunting her, daring her to try and escape its desolate might…

"Oh shut up," she muttered, steeling herself against the eternal chatter of the silence, all the while slipping deeper and deeper into despair.

_If only I'd been a Saiyan,_ she thought bitterly. _If only I wasn't so stupid! Who was I to believe that I had a chance with the Prince of all Saiyans…Who was I to think…that even with all the limitations of my humanity…_

"I could still save him," she finished aloud, letting a single tear slip down her cheek.

"Save him from what?"

Bulma's head jerked up. When her eyes finally pierced the watery veil of tears, she almost choked on her tongue as she realized who was standing in front of her.

"You…you're…!"

"Teraynia." The red-headed Saiyan queen inclined her head. When she straightened, her green eyes glimmered as she met Bulma's gaze with a self-confident smirk. "I've waited an eternity for this day, Bulma."

"How do you know my name?" the blue-haired beauty asked faintly, cerulean eyes wide as they tried to hold onto the glare of the blazing emeralds.

"That is unimportant. We must see to the task at hand." The queen lifted her right hand and crooked a finger at the bonds that held the girl in the air. The shadows immediately shrank back into the surrounding darkness, dropping Bulma to a platform forged from the abyss itself.

"When a Saiyan couple undergoes the _Sairiea_, they agree to become the next initiators upon their death," Teraynia explained, stepping onto the platform to stand ominously over the younger woman. "They, in turn, will guide the next pair of partners when they dare to set foot into the realm of the ritual."

"Initiators?" Bulma wondered, staring at the queen's steel-toed boots.

"Those who inscribe the partners' pledges upon their hearts."

"Oh." Bulma frowned. "So does that mean King Vegeta is talking to…Vegeta right now?"

Teraynia smiled. "Yes, that is exactly what it means."

"But Vegeta--! He…and his father…!"

"They have much that remains unresolved," Teraynia agreed, knowing what she was going to say before she had even thought of it herself. "But this is not the time for reparations. Their dispute must be settled once they have both departed this life once and for all. For now, we must let the shadows of the past alone and look ahead to what lies before us." She placed an ethereal palm upon Bulma's head, making the girl jump as the icy cold flesh touched her skin.

"So tell me," the queen murmured. "What _is _it from which you wish to save my son?"

Bulma shot her a confused glance. "F--from Andy, of course!" she answered, furrowing her brow in puzzlement. "Surely you knew that?"

The corners of Teraynia's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "I didn't ask you what is putting my son in danger. I asked you what you from what you wished to save him."

"I…" she trailed off, willing her brain to stop spinning in circles. "I don't know what you mean…!"

"Perhaps…from himself?"

Bulma's eyes went momentarily wide, then softened and closed as she issued a gentle nod. "Yes, I suppose…I wanted to teach him how to love. Stupid, I know, but still…"

"So is that what you wish to pledge?"

"What?" Bulma flicked her gaze across the queen's stoic face. "What do you mean, what I wish to pledge? I don't remember seeing anything about a pledge--"

"You wouldn't," Teraynia interrupted, cutting her off with a quick swat to the side of the head. "The android's visual units were greatly damaged upon the initial explosion. And besides: when the _Sairiea_ enters the second phase, they are transported here, to this parallel dimension, so there will be no interruptions." When Bulma did not reply, the queen rolled her eyes and knelt before the girl, forcing her to look up with a brief chuck under the chin.

"The _Sairiea_ means mutual necessity. You knew this, right?"

"Yes," Bulma responded quickly, afraid to lose any more respect in the eyes of the Saiyan beauty.

"And mutual necessity means you both have something the other desires, does it not?"

"I…guess so," Bulma replied, feeling foolish for not understanding where the conversation was going.

"Then allow me to rephrase my query. What does Vegeta desire from you?"

After a moment of silence, Bulma turned away from the queen, cerulean gaze falling to the floor as she curled her hand over her heart. "Power," she said softly. "Vegeta desires power. But he can't get it from me. God, I should have thought of this! He's a Saiyan prince; I'm…I'm just…"

"A human," Teraynia finished, emerald irises glittering in amusement. "Yes, that is exactly what you are. And that is exactly what Vegeta needs." Teraynia cupped the girl's face, catching and holding her eyes with her steely gaze. "You have a comrade named Kakarot, do you not?"

"Kakarot? Oh, you mean Goku." Bulma frowned. "Yeah. But what does he have to do with anything?"

"He is the strongest warrior on your planet. And do you know why?"

Bulma's eyes went wide as realization finally dawned upon her muddled brain. "Because he has something to protect," she whispered. She pressed her right hand over her left, feeling her heart begin to beat faster as everything fell neatly into place. "Something more precious than anything; the lives of those he cares about."

Teraynia smiled. "Yes. Because he spent his life striving to ascend to untouchable levels to secure the lives of his loved ones, he has become the strongest warrior that ever was, and ever will be." Flowing back onto her feet, the beautiful Saiyan woman folded her arms across her chest and tossed her hair over her shoulder in a shimmering molten wave. "My son already possesses every ounce of the strength he will need to meet the challenges that lie before him. All he needs now is the key to unlock that final door - the final portal into the ultimate realization of his true power."

She inclined her head to the young woman kneeling before her. "And now you know what you must pledge."

Bulma nodded, pushing herself slowly to her feet with hands that no longer trembled. "I'm ready," she declared, meeting the queen's eyes at last with the determination she had once prized as her finest attribute. "Tell me what I have to do."

"Alright. We shall begin."

The abyss began to swirl and writhe around her once again, dropping her and Teraynia further and further into its dismal depths. Bulma bit back a yelp of surprise as she nearly lost her feet time and time again, noting that Teraynia stood, completely at ease, upon the balls of her feet. Gritting her teeth against the urge to grab her companion for support, Bulma steeled herself once more to face the unknown.

"This is the point of no return," Teraynia murmured, turning slightly to face her younger charge. "When we reach our final destination, you will no longer be a single being. You will be as one with my son."

The girl drew a deep breath. "I know." A small grin curled her lips. "But you know, this is what I've wanted for a long time. What my fragile human ritual could not bind, the _Sairiea_ will now complete."

Teraynia smiled back. "Spoken like a true Saiyan queen. But enough talk; the time has come."

At last the roiling chasm solidified. The two women stood on a circular red dais surrounded by an endless cavity of time and space, facing a whirling curtain of shadows that cut a jagged line through the center of the platform.

Bulma started to draw a deep breath, only to find that her throat had constricted. It felt as if the jagged edge of a saw had been raked across her neck; with every breath, she could feel the oxygen elude her gasping lungs and rush back out into open expanse of the abyss. Her hands flew to her heart…

…and came away drenched in blood.

A strangled cry gurgled from somewhere deep in her stomach as she stared at her crimson-stained fingers. The wound seemed to have only just started to bleed; she could still make out the shape of the ghastly wound from the reflected imprint on her palm…

"It says 'love', Bulma. You are dying."

"Wh…what?" Bulma sputtered, flecks of blood flying from her lips. She could feel her knees weakening beneath her as her life drained slowly from her body.

"Do not fall," Teraynia warned, eyeing the girl's quivering stance. "For if you do, all will be lost: for you and Vegeta. This is ancient magic, designed to destroy any Saiyan unworthy of possessing the power this ritual bestows. That is why the practice - as well as the love that precedes it - became so rare; too many were dying in the halls of this very abyss. The _Sairiea_ is not for weaklings, and neither will it tolerate them."

Bulma gulped a mouthful of her own blood and willed her knees to hold firm. _God, just get this over with!_ she cried silently. _Vegeta, I need you! Where are you?_

"You will give your love to Vegeta, and you will accept his pledge in return," Teraynia said quietly. "Your lives, as of now, are only half of what they once were - two pieces of a puzzle that cannot survive unless united. When the veil is raised, you must go to him without stumbling a single step and take him into your arms. Then you must smear blood from your wound onto your lips and kiss the gash above his own heart. He will do the same. You will then choose a single name, consisting of three words: one for you, one for him, and one to join the two together. Do you understand?"

Bulma faintly jerked her spinning head, marveling at the crimson haze that was settling slowly over her eyes. Blood choked her windpipe and fire coursed through her veins, setting her thoughts ablaze with a single thought:

_Vegeta, please…end my pain…_

The whirlwinds at the center of the dais gradually slowed and disappeared, revealing the Saiyan prince in all his bloodstained glory standing shakily upon the other end of the platform, gloved hand stained crimson as he clutched desperately at his heart. Behind him stood his father, looking on in silence from the shadows. For a fraction of a moment the King and Queen's eyes met, exchanging an eternity of unspoken thoughts and words through a single transcendental glance. Then both turned back to the spectacle before them as if the other had never been.

Vegeta was the first to step forward. Lowering his hand from his heart, he clenched his fists at his sides and staggered toward the center, raising pained onyx eyes to grasp her and draw her toward him. Blood had already soaked into the fabric of his shirt, making it impossible to read what had been lacerated into his breast. Suppressing the urge to lie down for the rest of eternity, Bulma forced down another mouthful of blood and started toward the imposing Saiyan prince.

Halfway to the center, Bulma felt her knees give out. The hungry mouth of the abyss opened up under her feet, preparing to swallow her and hold her captive for the duration of infinity.

Forcing the blood from her throat, she managed to gasp, "Vegeta!"

_All this for nothing. Dammit, I was so close…!_

But she didn't fall. A strong hand grasped her own, suspending her over the chasm with a grip of steel.

"Blast…it all, woman…!" Vegeta panted, flecks of blood spurting from his lips. "Why…the hell…did you have to go…and do a thing…like that for!"

"Pull…me up," she grated, feeling her heart beat sluggishly in protest as she willed it to work just a little bit longer. "H…hurry!"

Vegeta's hair flickered, then burst into brilliant blond flame as he let out a tremendous roar. With the last of his strength, the prince pulled her from the abyss, sending them both tumbling backwards towards the outer edge of the dais.

"Shit!" Vegeta growled. Turning a full 360 in the air, he slammed his booted feet onto the ethereal platform of shadows. Bulma was thrown violently up against his bloodsoaked chest; she threw her weakened arms around his neck held on for all she was worth, praying Vegeta's strength would hold out just a little while longer. The force of their fall drove the mighty prince back a few paces, but he finally managed to regain his balance.

"Oh…my God," Bulma gasped. "Vegeta…are you…okay?"

"Of course not!" he snarled, spitting out a mouthful of crimson liquid. "I'm…dying, woman!"

The blue haired girl winced, laying a gentle hand upon the gushing wound. "I know," she whispered. "So…am I." Raising her eyes, she caught his gaze. "But you…can save me. Just…as I…can save you." Raking a trembling hand across her heart, she kissed her fingers, then slowly lowered her lips to his wound.

Vegeta watched her intently, green eyes lighting with a fleeting moment of passion as his head tilted back of its own accord to accept the burning kiss.

When Bulma pulled away, Vegeta let his chin fall back to rest on his chest, Saiyan eyes gazing wonderingly into hers. Power coursed through his body, infusing itself into his blood; for a fleeting moment, Bulma wondered vaguely if he even realized what it was that had proved his salvation.

Then he pressed his own hand over his healing wound, bringing the last of the drying blood to his lips. "Love," he rumbled, allowing her a brief but genuine smile, "I should have known you'd choose something stupid like that." Leaning forward, he bore down on her wound, issuing a sharp, feral nip to the lacerated skin that tore her apart and pieced her back together all at the same time.

"But what I couldn't have known," he murmured against her collarbone, "was that your stupid decision would save my life. It seems you are not so foolish after all."

"I've never been foolish," Bulma said with a small smirk. The pain was gone, replaced by the feeling that, after a lifetime of living as a shadow, she was finally whole. Burying her face in his neck, she mumbled, "I've just been a fool."

The abyss began to melt back into the night. Vegeta pulled the two of them to their feet. "The name," he muttered, turning away from her. "We need to pick the three-word name." The roof of the mansion was beginning to materialize under their feet, lit by the soft, pale light of the full moon. Then he twisted back to face her, feet planted solidly apart and arms crossed heavily over his chest. The scar was already fading as the parallel dimension dissolved around them, but Bulma could still make out the word etched viciously over his heart:

_PRIDE._

"What are you staring at!" he demanded, purposefully shifting his shoulders to hide the paling mark. "Go on, pick your word!" The full moon glinted off his sweat-sheened face, almost covering the faint blush beginning to form upon his cheeks.

Almost.

Bulma smiled to herself. "Alright, I'll go first, if you insist." She gazed intently into his eyes, making him shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Nothing," she stated clearly, placing her hand lightly over her heart. When he shot her an incredulous look, she shrugged and tapped the toes of her shoes against the shingles. "You always told me I was nothing," she explained, a crooked grin touching her lips. Then, sarcastically, she added, "I just wanted you to be sure that I still know my place--"

"You cannot have that name, woman!" he growled furiously. Closing the distance between them, he grabbed her roughly by the arms. "For that is the one I have chosen for myself!"

Bulma's eyes flew wide. "Wh…what?"

"I have given you my pride, woman! Without it, I am nothing!" Whirling away from her, he stalked back to stand once more at a distance. "Without it, I am but a man," he said softly.

"V…Vegeta…" Bulma bit her lip, then drew a deep breath, crossing the rooftop to lay a hand on his arm. "Everything," she murmured. "I choose everything. For even though I gave you my love, love is everlasting, and thus I will never have given enough to run out."

The prince's lips twisted into a smirk. "Nothing, yet everything. I like it. Though I may not agree with it, I accept it. Wait here; I'm going find that android. There is something that, as of now, remains unsettled between us."

"Wait! Vegeta, I'll come with you--"

"Silence, woman!" he growled. "This is something I must finish alone." With that, he disappeared through one of the numerous skylights, leaving her standing on the roof to wonder what to do with herself.

"To hell with that!" she scoffed after a moment's thought. "He may be my new king, but he still doesn't scare me!" Chuckling lightly to herself, she easily found the trapdoor hidden under the shingles and slipped inside, unafraid of anything the future might hold.

The moment her feet touched the ground she was off and running, straining to hear her husband's voice over the whirr of machinery. After rounding over a dozen corners and nearly toppling to the tile more times than she could count, she finally found the two standing in the hallway, exactly where they had left the crazed android what seemed like an eternity before.

However, the first blow had yet to be thrown. The two stood in silent standoff: Andy standing stiffly before the battered closet door, Vegeta positioned proudly in the middle of the hall.

"So you've completed the Sairiea," Andy spat, looking the cocky Saiyan prince up and down. "Tell me, monkey, did you see your father?" A twisted sneer curled his lip. "Did you see the bastard who stole your mother's honor and tossed it into the wind?"

"I did," Vegeta replied viciously, returning the inventor's leer with a smug smirk. "But that holds no relevance to the situation at hand. I've come to fulfil the terms, android. And then I will kill you."

"Fulfil the terms?" the android said incredulously. "You Saiyans have never kept an honest deal in the history of your entire wretched race!" He spread his arms wide. "Just kill me and get it over with," he snarled, blue eyes flashing in the moonlight filtering through the skylight. "I know that is what you will do anyway. You know I am no match for you; you will simply do what you chimps do best - slaughter. Well, go ahead! I'm waiting," he challenged.

Vegeta stepped forward, unfolding his arms and cracking his knuckles as he advanced on the maniacal android standing before him. But just before he seemed ready to throw the deadly punch, the prince did the unthinkable.

He knelt.

"You will give me her life," he growled, energy crackling through his fingers. "And I will leave."

Bulma's breath caught in her throat, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep from uttering a staggered gasp.

"Bah! Trickery," Andy sneered. "You should know your theatrics will not work on me!"

"Theatrics. That's an interesting word." Vegeta was on his feet in a flash, hand pressed up against Andy's chest. "For I thought in order for an action to be categorized as a theatric, it had to be an act. And that was no act, android. I knelt, and I asked for her life. You refused to give it, therefore making you the swindler in this particular deal. You have violated your own code, android, and now you will pay. Farewell, android. Say hello to my father I hell." Energy flowed to his fingertips.

"Galick gun."

A tremendous explosion rocked the mansion on its foundations, then all was still.

Bulma stepped out of the shadows, gliding over to Vegeta and laying her hand on his arm. "It's finished," she murmured.

"Yes. But woman!" he warned, green eyes flashing in her direction. "You saw nothing."

"Nothing, yet everything," she replied teasingly.

"Woman!"

"Okay, okay! I went temporarily blind," she chuckled. Then she went pale. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Vegeta, where's--!"

But before she could finish her question, her little son toddled out from behind the ruined door, fluffy purple locks that seemed oddly yellowish waving merrily in the midnight wind. "Daad…aa," he cooed, pointing happily to his father. Bulma ran to him and scooped him up, hugging him close.

"God, I'm so glad you're okay," she squealed, nearly crying for joy. The baby merely grinned and reached for his father, who pointedly ignored him.

"Woman!" Vegeta called. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he muttered, "I mean, Bulma."

Bulma's face lit up as she turned to face him. "Yes?" she replied.

"Let's go home."

"Nothing has ever sounded better," she said dreamily. "But Vegeta…?"

"What!"

Bulma started to say something, but cut herself short as she shared a secret smile with the round moon floating above her head. "Oh never mind," she murmured, burying her nose in her little son's hair, "I guess it doesn't matter anyway."

"Whatever you say," the prince muttered. Striding across the broken tile, Vegeta scooped her a little less roughly than usual into her arms, then floated gently into the air and shot into the waning moonlight.

(A/N: And that's all she wrote. Upon request, I will do an epilogue dealing with Teraynia and King Vegeta after the _Sairiea_ is complete. I know what happened, but you guys don't, so just ask me and I'll put it up. I hope you enjoyed Nothing Yet Everything, and stay tuned for a story called The Last of the Saiyans, featuring Mirai Trunks and a mysterious girl that will change his life forever. Sounds cheezy, I know, but I swear it'll be one to remember.

Peace.)


	16. Epilogue

(A/N: Alright, peeps, here's the epilogue. I really hope you like it - it's short, sweet, and to the point. Enjoy.)

Epilogue

Teraynia watched with glimmering green eyes as her son and his chosen disappeared into the fabrics of space, returning through the pathways of magic to the world she herself had left behind. Silence descended as the dais grew dark and every whirling maelstrom flowed from raging storm to a breeze to a whisper, then finally trailed away to nothing. Infinite shadows fell once again upon the departure of the Super Saiyan glow, ready to send its two inhabitants into the eternal sleep that awaited them. Teraynia tilted her head back, as if daring the darkness to come and bear her away to the next life. When the abyss made no immediate reply, a smirk brushed her lips as she tossed her hair the color of boiling magma into the stagnant air. Bringing a gloved hand up to rest gently over her mouth, she stifled a silent chuckle.

"You have grown up to be the great Saiyan I always knew you would be, my one and only son," she murmured, gaze traveling to a drop of crimson blood fading into blackening dais. "You have made your race proud."

"There is no race left to pride."

Turning slightly into the shadows, she cocked her head and shot a scathing look into the abyss just beyond the battered edge of the platform. "And whose fault is that, Vegeta?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

The king stepped up onto the dais, burning black eyes cast unusually upon the ground. "Frieza's," he replied quietly, a muscle under his eyes jumping as if in protest to his faulty affirmation. "He is the one who destroyed us."

"He is the one who destroyed our bodies," Teraynia corrected harshly, twisting back around to face once more into the eternal abyss. The chasm was already beginning to dissolve; the magic knew that the last of its people had passed through its sacred halls. "But you were the one who destroyed our souls."

"You know I do not believe in souls!"

Teraynia's eyes twitched in momentary anguish before slamming the iron mask of indifference back into place. "Then believe in pride, Vegeta," she grated. "Believe in the honor I once thought you possessed." Shifting slowly, she turned to face him, leafy irises glittering in the waning light. "You destroyed our honor," she said softly, catching his gaze and holding it fast with chains of emerald steel. "And in doing so you destroyed your race: for honor was all we had left."

"So you waited this long just to accuse me!" he demanded, throwing his silken cape over his shoulder in a furious wave of satin. "That is just like you, Teraynia! I should have known that you remained in this godforsaken world of this godforsaken ritual simply to bind me to an eternity of darkness--!"

"I waited this long to see my son," she interrupted calmly, folding her arms, "and the man I knew he would become." She watched a sizzling strip of time and space fall to the stone floor beside her feet. "Just like his father."

"You make no sense, woman!" the king spat. "First you ridicule me, then you accredit me with the so called greatness of that boy? The kid is just as arrogant as Frieza and twice as stupid! He bound himself to a human woman--!"

"Oh, would you shut _up!_ God, just listening to you is giving me a headache. And I wasn't accrediting _you_ with the success of my son. I was accrediting his father."

Vegeta's eyes glittered ominously. "So now you're telling me that the brat isn't even mine?" he demanded.

Teraynia met his gaze with a tiny smile. "No, he is not yours." But before the king could explode, she held up her hand. "But neither does he belong to anyone else. Hear me out; everything will become clear."

The king cast a furious glance around him at the crumbling abyss. "Fine," he spat, settling himself on the edge of the dais in a flurry of ruby fabric. Spreading his arms wide, he added sarcastically, "Tell me everything, my _queen_."

"As you wish." Teraynia sidestepped a falling bit of debris and came to stand beside her mate. Allowing her hands to fall to her hips, she glared down her pretty nose into his smoldering onyx eyes.

"My son belongs to the Saiyan man with whom I performed the Sairiea," she began. "That man would have sacrificed anything and everything to bring his people glory. That man understood that, as a race, our only chance to extend our lives into the future was to keep fighting, fighting…always fighting…"

"And I understood that when I submitted to Frieza!" he sputtered, casting her a furious glance. "It was either fight for him or not at all!"

"I told you to keep your mouth shut, fool," Teraynia said icily.

"I will speak when I see fit!"

"Then you will not hear what I have to say." She began to turn away. "You are lucky I stayed here with you at all."

"And why is that?" he hissed.

"Because had I not remained in this realm with you - had I not accepted the responsibility of the last initiator - you would have gone to hell."

"Feh. And?" the king snorted, crossing his own muscular arms firmly across his breastplate. "It would have been better than eternal boredom." A piece of the dais, which had begun to chip itself away into the abyss, landed on his shoulder, and he incinerated it with a crook of his finger. "Besides: what would it have mattered to you anyway? You despise me, and I know it. I am strong enough to survive the fires of hell. You needn't have wasted your time."  
"You wouldn't have lasted one minute in hell," Teraynia rumbled, disgusted. "Not where you were headed."

Vegeta sniffed incredulously. "And you would know this how, woman?"

"Because I lived it, that's how!" she exploded. She appeared in front of her mate with deadly speed, grasping him by the collar of his underarmor and dragging him to his feet with the force of her fury. "What do you think it was like, living day after day, watching the only one you cared about become weaker and weaker, and know there is nothing you can do about it! What do you think it was like to see your king, whom you once admired most in the entire galaxy for his strength and honor, crumble from the inside out like a man made of dust? What do you think it was like--" she grated, clenched fist shaking as it clutched the ancient fabric of the armor, "--to see the man, who finally revived in you what your race had lost over the millennia past, fall to a tyrant's trickery, fading to a whisper of himself before your very eyes?" Her death grip on his collar slackened as her head tilted forward to rest against his chest in a sudden show of emotion. "I was almost glad to be gone," she whispered. "But could you blame me? How could I live on, knowing that with every dying breath you took, our race was dwindling into oblivion?"

Vegeta stared down at her for a moment, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his fighting outfit and gazed off over her shoulder. "Get a hold of yourself, Teraynia," he said gruffly, taking a quick step back. "The solitude has gone to your head."

Teraynia allowed herself a glittering laugh, much the way she had done on the last night of her life, and Vegeta jumped in surprise.

"Solitude will never go to my head," she murmured, meeting his eyes with unwavering confidence. "There was only ever one day when I wasn't alone. However, though it may never drive me to the point of insanity, my solitude can pain me until the end of time; for even though it was for a mere ritual, I once knew what it was like to have someone standing beside me in a world of blood and tears."

Vegeta chuckled softly, returning her gaze with only a hint of ridicule. "Hollow words, Teraynia," he said quietly.

"Only hollow enough to echo the pain one more time." Teraynia turned away, watching the slow disintegration of the abyss as it sank towards oblivion.

Silence overcame the pair as they stared off into the dissolving expanse of the _Sairiea_. They stood close enough to be companionable, but far enough to remain as strangers upon the dais on which the lifeblood of Saiyan honor had been spilled time and time again, only to be forgotten as the strange void crumbled into nothingness. Teraynia tapped the toe of her boot against the roiling platform, only the faintest ghost of emotion lighting her face as she watched it chip away under her foot. Then she felt a strong, calloused hand come to rest upon her forearm.

"We're watching the very foundations of our race collapse beneath our feet, Teraynia," Vegeta said softly, dark eyes flickering across the broken landscape. "This was the last _Sairiea_ the universe will ever know."  
"Yes, I know that," she replied, eying his hand with only remote disgust. "We will now ascend to the next stop on the road that winds on before us."

"Or descend," he retorted bitterly, gaze falling momentarily to the floor. "For those of us who signed the death warrant of so many valiant warriors."

Teraynia raised an eyebrow. "So you admit it?"

"Bah. I knew it the moment I gave Frieza my answer." The king released his grip on her arm and whirled away from her, black maned head lowering in self contempt. Both hands clenched into fists as he glared angrily into the shadows. "But any decision I could have made would have ended up with the same result," he grated, watching his tendons begin to quake as he squeezed them ever tighter. "But…I thought…if there were some way to buy us more time…some way to help us get stronger without Frieza realizing it…then we could win."

"And it didn't work," Teraynia murmured, eyes training themselves upon her mate's back in sudden realization. "So you defended your actions, not wanting the rest of us to know that your final plan was to go behind the tyrant's back and stab him from behind."

"Rrr, don't say it like that!" he roared. "I wanted…I thought…" he trailed off, finally letting his hands fall limp to his sides. "I don't know what I was thinking," he muttered at last. "It would have been better to let them die in honor than in chains." A small smirk twisted his lips. "Even my son, who was barely old enough to know what had happened, understands that. And just like you, he hates me for it."

"I have never hated you, you fool," Teraynia growled, taking a step toward him. Then the hard lines that creased her brow softened, and she laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "I have only missed you." Leaning forward ever so slightly, she let her forehead fall to rest against his shoulder, burning red hair tumbling idly into her face.

"Feh." The king closed his eyes and crossed his arms, letting the warmth of her unspoken forgiveness course through his veins, once more setting them afire with the pride he had presumed lost. At last she pulled away, and he sighed as the heat of her proximity faded with the empty space that separated them once more.

"Time is fading fast," he said quietly. "Soon you will proceed to the world of the great warriors. You must feel honored, my queen. Not many Saiyans receive that privilege."

"Honored?" She laughed. "Hardly."

He flicked her a confused glance. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to the world of the Kais." She spread her arms wide. "I'm going with you."

"To the underworld! You're insane, woman!" he cried, black eyes wide with shock. "I've already put you through a living hell! Why opt to go through it a second time!"

"I'll deal with it," she said idly. The floor of the abyss began to open up beneath them. Tongues of flame slithered through the cracks, tasting the two Saiyans' boots with hungry whips of fire. "Oh, come now, don't you remember my pledge?" she asked teasingly, ignoring a blast of sparks as it singed the skin of her leg.

"Courage," the king muttered, crossing his arms a little tighter and meeting her gaze. "How could I forget?"

"And do you remember yours?" she prodded, planting her hands on her hips.

The king mumbled something unintelligible.

"That's right," she chuckled. "Exactly the same as your son. I'll bet that would piss him off big time if he knew." Then she held out her hand. "So are you ready?"

Vegeta smirked and cracked his knuckles, then brushed past her to head toward the heart of the inferno. "Let's go find that lizard man and give him my revised reply to his impudent question." Without looking back, he stepped into the blaze and was gone.

Teraynia started after him, then hesitated only a moment, casting a swift glance over her shoulder into the crumbling twilight of the _Sairiea_.

"You've done well, my son," she whispered. "Just like your father, you've made your mistakes…and you've atoned for them. Make your human woman happy; her blood will bear our blood into eternity." Then she followed her husband into hell, with nothing short of ecstasy staining her crimson cheeks.

(A/N: That's it. Story over. Now go read the Last of the Saiyans. I promise you won't be disappointed.)


End file.
